


Knives Out, A Novel by Dodge Wetsfield (aka, Ransom Drysdale)

by Fodforever



Series: Marta Helps Ransom Be Less Awful [1]
Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: And write a best seller!, Angst and Fluff and Smut, BAMF Marta Cabrera, But not a murderer, Dream Sex, Emotional Sex, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, He'd fall in love with Marta!, Marta helps with that, Praise Kink, Ransom Drysdale Being an Asshole, Ransom doesn't know how to be praised, Sexual Fantasy, What if Ransom took some time to think and didn't commit murder, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:20:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25101544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fodforever/pseuds/Fodforever
Summary: Instead of turning around that night and murdering his grandfather, Ransom decides to use his ingenious murder plot as the concept for his debut novel.He plans to turn their family disfunction into a best-seller, and hock the movie/TV rights to the highest bidder.Harlan wants Ransom to make something of himself? He'll make something alright.
Relationships: Marta Cabrera/Ransom Drysdale
Series: Marta Helps Ransom Be Less Awful [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1903030
Comments: 352
Kudos: 1041





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ransom is a dick, but channels his creativity into writing instead of murder. In his quest to humiliate his grandfather he discovers he's actually a pretty good writer ... And a pretty good guy, if he'll let himself be.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale peels out of the Thrombey manor and down the twisted old road into the night as fast as his vintage BMW 3.0 CSi can take him. His blood is on fire, a burning desire to make his grandfather pay pounds through him. 

Pay in every sense of the word.

How dare he. How the fuck dare he. 

He screeches to a halt just before he’s out of sight of the house, the large property looks small in his rear-view mirror. Inspiration hits him so suddenly he almost can’t believe how perfect it is. He takes a few breaths to go over it. The medicines. The timing. It would work, it would be perfect.

And the only one who would get hurt would be his asshole of a grandfather, and that nurse.

Fuck, the nurse. He doesn’t give two shits about her really, but this would _probably_ ruin her life. Maybe she’d get off, in all likelihood it would be ruled accidental. Maybe she’d just lose her nursing license… Or maybe she’d be sentenced to hard time and spend the rest of her life haunted by the idea that she’d killed the old man. Who Ransom can tell she actually cares for, probably more than anyone in their fucked up family does. Fuck. 

Ransom puts the car back in gear and heads home. 

He lays down on his 1,000 thread-count sheets and tries to sleep, but he can’t get the idea out of his head. It really was perfect, like something out of one of Harlan’s novels.

Better really, than anything the old man has written in years. He has such a loyal fan base now they’ll buy anything, but Ransom has seen the slow decline of his work. Hell, this idea is maybe better than some of his best work from decades ago.

A new plan starts to form in his mind. What would really stick it to the old codger? Not a quick death, but to live and see his oldest grandson out-sell him. To watch the dirty laundry of his broken family air to the world, on the big screen even. His distaste for seeing his works adapted would be magnified a hundred-fold, seeing an actual live representation of their twisted family out there for all to see... If he plays his cards right he’ll even have the support if Harlan’s precious friend and confidant, the nurse. 

Ransom grins and walks out into the living room of his beautiful glass house, itching to get started. 

* * *

Ransom loses track of time. That night he’d booted up his Macbook Air, wondering why he bought it in the first place. He’d had to install a word processor, he’s pretty sure he’d never even used the thing before.

After hours of typing, he passes out on his leather sofa, exhausted. In the morning he wakes up to see a little word count in the corner of the page. 10,003. It’s a start. 

He reads over what he wrote the previous night and is pleasantly surprised. He hasn’t typed anything that long… ever. In college he half-assed his papers or straight-up paid some scholarship kid to do them for him. He stretches and gasps in pain. His back, his arms, even his fingers are sore.

“Fuck this” he says, opening a browser to search for voice to text software. He finds the one that costs the most and downloads it. Then he opens his bank account. He’ll have enough to last him a few months, if he’s careful. As a last resort he can always sell the house. He’ll never sell the Beamer. 

Next, he reaches out to the PI he knows Harlan used years ago, but fired after he caused Harlan to miss a draft deadline for one of his books. This guy is good, and won’t have any loyalty to the Thrombeys. 

Over the next week Ransom works on his novel, and does little else. 

It’s a strange feeling, for the first time in his life he has true passion for something. It started with revenge, a desire to see Harlan suffer. But a day or two in, Ransom is surprised to realize he is genuinely enjoying himself. 

His over-active mind, usually so manic and desperate for distraction has quieted under his new singular focus. The voice-to-text software allows him riff, to experiment as he paces in his pristine living room, new angles and twists in the story emerge as he looks out into the serene wilderness that surrounds his home.

Half-way through, he’s starting to struggle to cling to his hot-headed indignation. He’s decided to structure the story first as a series of vignettes about each “character,” to draw the reader into the perverse Thrombey family. He’s aided by the report he has on each one of them from the PI… it was highway robbery what the guy charged to pull everything together in just a few days, but Ransom couldn’t wait. 

But as he delves into each of his family members he realizes that Harlan is right to cut them _all_ off. Really the old man’s main crime is not doing it _sooner_ , allowing everyone in the family to atrophy by suckling at his teat for this long. Maybe if he’d told them all a decade or two ago that they had to make it on their own, they wouldn’t be the shitty excuse for a family they are now.

Part of Ransom’s ire comes back. A bitter taste in his mouth reminds him that no matter how warped he and the rest have become, it was under Harlan’s careful hand. Harlan could have easily guided him toward making a more meaningful life for himself when he was young. Harlan who always said they were so similar, but never really tried to get to know him. What _did_ he do? Threw money at him. Helped his parents bribe schools and even the cops over and over. Slowly watching him become this person, a person that came this close to murdering his own flesh and blood.

Ransom suddenly hates that his home is made of glass. He’s been cooped up, forced to look at his reflection for over eight days and he hates what he sees.

He turns away from the windows and starts on the chapter about Meg. She’s the easiest and the hardest. He does his best to describe her annoying, fake social justice warrior façade, her juul addiction, her tiresome false sincerity. But his mind finds itself going back to his strongest memory of her when she was young, just after her dad, Neil, died.

Ransom was in his early teens when his uncle died, but he remembers him as the most sane of the bunch. He remembers Meg at the funeral, only six or seven. Tear-streaked, looking so lost. She’s been lost since, searching for love, a true connection in their joke of a family. Her uber-liberal vocalizations a manifestation of her need to identify with the groups she sees as similar to herself. 

The ignored, the vulnerable, the unloved. 

Ransom has to take a break, suddenly weighed down by the impact Neil’s death must have had on the whole family. They never talk about him. Never talk about his life or his death. 

Ransom pours himself a drink and allows himself to really think about what it must have been like, for Harlan to lose his oldest son, gone despite all his wealth and resources. For his mother to lose her brother. 

Ransom always secretly mourned that none of the latest generation of Thrombeys had siblings. He wonders what it would have been like for Meg, Jacob or himself to have had someone to grow up with. Someone to understand them, to not be the only focus for their parent's narcissism. 

Instead they just had each other. Distant cousins to be pitted against one another at occasional get-togethers.

He sets his drink down and reads back through what he’s written for each family member's chapter. It’s all black and white. They’re assholes. 

He laughs, and thinks that’s probably the truth. But there must have been some grey area, even just once for each of them.

Ransom knows good writing. Despite his cavalier attitude, he's read all his grandfather's books many times over. And a book about a bunch of one-dimensional assholes isn’t going to get him the traction he needs. 

He goes back in and adds at least one redeeming quality for each of them. His mother’s strength. His father’s love for his son (which he does have, deep deep down), Meg’s endless struggle to feel worthy of everything she’s been handed, Joni’s deep desperate fear of having to go back to being poor white trash (the PI shed a lot of light on her past, a trailer park in Huntsville, a father arrested multiple times for domestic abuse).

Walt and his family are the hardest. Ransom tries his best, but all he can seem to see in Walt is a giant, gaping asshole. The kid is a bit easier. This neo-Nazi bullshit has been going on for less than a year. Ransom casts his memory to the summer before last, when Walt and Donna both skipped the annual fourth of July get together at Thrombey manor but sent Jacob on so they could fly off to some party in the Hamptons. Out of the helicopter-gaze of his shit parents, Jacob had been more tolerable. A quiet kid who never seemed to know what to say. It’s no surprise he’s latched on to internet scum for validation, with parents like those.

Donna is a vapid shell and he can’t find anything redeeming in her to write, but after some time he comes up with something for Walt. It’s probably a total fiction, but he writes him as a lost boy, having to take the place of his dead brother in his father’s eyes. Wishing only to please Harlan and never measuring up. 

Finally he gets to himself and suddenly it’s like someone has turned off a spigot. Writing his own “character” feels hallow. In the book he knows he is the murderer. So the smart thing to do is paint himself as a jerk, not someone the reader would _like_ but also someone they wouldn’t jump to as a suspect. A selfish rich kid that’s just pissed he’s cut off, with a keen eye that sees the truth about the rest of them. 

It’s close to reality, he thinks. But then he remembers how close he was to actually murdering his grandfather and he feels so lost. He doesn’t know how to analyze or disguise his own disfunction. Fuck. 

For some reason Marta enters his mind, like a cool wave over hot sand. 

That’s it. The way to make the reader trust his character is to have him help Marta. He starts again, and by the end of the day the second act is complete. He reviews the content and flow of the story.

_Open on Harlan’s blood-spattered body._

_Then chapters 1 – 8 detail the life and times of each family member, sparing no details of their selfish and base existences. Each one has some redeeming anecdote or detail to plant in the mind of the reader that they may not be a total waste of human life._

_Then the murder plot is revealed. Wealthy crime novelist “Garland Pembrook” invites his family to his Massachusetts mansion for his 85th birthday party. The next morning, his housekeeper “Nancy” finds him dead, with his throat slit. The police believe it was suicide, but an anonymous party pays private eye “Leopold White” to investigate._

_White learns that Garland’s relationships with his family were strained. Unbeknownst to White, after the party, Garland’s nurse “Carla Munoz” accidentally administers him an overdose of morphine instead of his usual medication. He slits his own throat to cover for Carla._

_Carla cannot lie without vomiting, so she gives true but incomplete answers when questioned. After agreeing to assist the investigation, she conceals evidence of her actions as they search the property._

_Garland's will is read and to everyone's astonishment, he’s left everything to Carla. Ransom (he hasn’t thought of a fake name for himself yet… he’s come up with “Dodge Wetsfield” but wants to save that as his pen name) helps her escape the family's wrath, and tricks her into confessing under the guise of helping her._

That's when he hits a bit of a roadblock. 

He can’t decide how much of a dick book-Ransom should be. His mind wanders, and he allows himself to imagine the Ransom in the story sweeping “Carla” off her feet. Saving her from his selfish family and bonding with her over their insanity. Driving her home and holding her in his arms, telling her everything will be okay. Tilting her face up to his, gently pressing his mouth to hers.

What the fuck…

Ransom shakes his head and decides it’s time for a break. 

He’s already outlined the whole plot, there isn’t some Ransom-Marta romance angle. The Ransom in the book is a villain, a mastermind hell-bent on killing his grandfather and getting what’s his. This is about exposing his family. Shaming Harlan. 

He just hasn’t slept for more than four hours straight in the past week, too intent on his goal. He just needs a break.

He makes himself something to eat and flops down onto the sofa to clear his mind. He visualizes a beach. Warm sun and surf. 

* * *

The next thing he knows he’s jolting awake, hard and desperate from a dream he can _only just_ remember. 

In the dream he was at the beach. Marta was there, hair down, skin glowing against a sweet little blue and white striped sundress. She’s relaxed, happy. Ransom never sees her that way in real life. Maybe glimpses of it, when he's walked in on her sharing a joke or a game of Go with his grandfather.

It’s a stupid fantasy, Ransom reflects. Him and Marta enjoying a day at the beach. Even so, he throws his arm over his eyes and struggles to remember the rest...

“Come on, Ransom, there’s nobody around. Please?” Marta says as she hands him a cold beer and takes a sip of her own drink. She's standing over him in the hot sun, casting a shadow over his face by stepping between him and the light. He looks up at her. The sun creates a shining halo around her, but it's her smile that's blinding.

“Marta, you’re _never_ going to hear me sing, we’ve been over this.” Dream-Ransom smiles, indulgent, soft in a way he never is in real life.

She laughs and slides down to straddle him, dress flowing over him on either side, covering his own small swim trunks. 

“Please Ransom, I just want to know, can’t we make a trade?” her voice is light, teasing. She takes a long pull of her soda, neck working as she swallows.

He struggles for a moment to find the words. “What kind of tra-ahhh!” 

He bucks up under her, body seizing as she moves to slide the cold damp glass of the end of her soda bottle around his left nipple. It hardens just shy of being uncomfortable before she slides the bottle over to the other one. 

Ransom feels himself get fully hard, as Marta slides all the way down into his lap to press against him before leaning over to take the stiff peak of his nipple into her mouth, sucking obscenely. Once the sting of the cold is fully gone she moves to the other one.

“I’m still not sure what we’re trading here” says Ransom, “if I need a nipple-warmer I can just put on a shirt.” 

Marta’s eyes light up at the challenge, slowly lifting her dress and sliding the bottle lower, down Ransom’s perfect abs, down, until the cool glass is cresting over his straining errection.

Ransom’s head falls back. The swimsuit provides some protection from the chill of the bottle, but the pressure, and the knowledge that it’s Marta doing this to him make his impossibly harder. 

She runs the bottle back and forth, and yeah, the cool sensation is definitely seeping through his thin trunks now. Fuck.

The real Ransom stuffs his hand down his expensive lounge-wear pants, his other arm still thrown over his eyes. He gets himself out and strokes, a low groan escaping him as he realizes there is so much precum at the tip that the glide is free and easy. 

He pumps himself, lost to the fantasy. “Marta…”

In the dream her name echoes from his lips. She laughs again.

“Promise you’ll sing for me. Promise and you’ll get everything you want.”

Ransom can’t even grasp what she is saying at this point, he just needs, he needs whatever she will give him. “Yes, please, anything…” 

Marta jams her bottle into the sand off to the side and rises up on her knees. With quick hands she gets Ransom’s trunks open and pulls him out, his rigid cock slightly cool to the touch.

“Make it good for me too, Ransom” she instructs as she lines him up and slides down, slick as anything over him, so warm he feels like he’s on fire.

He takes the little tied string straps at the shoulders of her dress and pulls on them, causing the top to loosen and fall. She’s fully seated on him now, pulsing and squeezing, taking every inch of him as he lowers his mouth to her breasts and repays her earlier attention to his nipples. He grasps her firmly with both hands, leaning forward to lick and nip, sucking until her areolas are a deep red, the same color as her flushed lips.

“Oh Ransom, yes that’s it, make me feel good as I take you. Warming your cock up, getting you close…” 

Marta slides up and down once, twice, and Ransom is coming violently. Spilling everywhere, totally uninhibited as he yells out. 

His breath heaves as he removes his arm from his eyes and they blink against the stark light of his lifeless living room. He’s coated in a light sheen of sweat, sticking slightly to his leather sofa.

“Jesus fuck” he says to the empty room, heart hammering. He’s never come so hard in his life. 

Once he’s caught his breath his mind wanders to his ending for the book. It needs to change.

Right now he has Book-Ransom getting caught, but he manages to grab a blade from that damn knife display (which Ransom always thought was a rip-off of A Game of Thrones). He stabs “Carla” in the heart, killing her… it was supposed to be the ultimate “fuck-you” to Harlan. Sort of a “see what leaving everything to Marta will get you?” message. But now he knows it’s not the best ending for the story.

He shakes his head and makes a note in his voice-to-text outline.

“Ending note - Change plot so Marta character doesn’t die. It’s a fake knife, she outsmarts them all. Re-think ending to position her as the ultimate victor. Ransom character forced to face the fact that he can’t tell what’s real from what’s fake. Can’t win even in the game he’s so carefully structured in his favor.” 

Ransom looks down and thinks about the mess he’s made of himself, and laughs. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ransom makes headway on his novel, and finds that sustained self-reflection is kind of a bitch.

In another week Ransom has over 60,000 words written and has combed through the story more times than he can count. It’s ready.

Well, it’s not ready. He has a lot more to write. The ending isn’t finished, he’s only through the blackmail note and the fire at the medical examiner's office. He knows up next is the big reveal. 

Private eye “Leopold White” (shamelessly based on a article Ransom saw on Benoit Blanc in _The New Yorker_ ) still needs to discover that Garland’s elderly mother saw Ransom climbing down from the secret window entrance the night of the murder, the big finish…

But he wants Marta to read what he has written so far. Wants her to read it while it’s still possible for book-Ransom to be the good guy. Well, good-ish. 

He can’t stop thinking about his dream; it’s annoying. 

He needs to re-focus. This sudden infatuation with Marta is just a distraction. Probably the result of having to think so long and hard about his terrible family and all their issues. In contrast Marta is like a balm. She’s pure, and true and good in a way no Thrombey or Drysdale could ever be. No wonder grandad clings to her. 

Shit. Right, the plan. 

Ransom knows that Marta wants to believe the best in people, so the plan is to return to the manor, tail between his legs, and confess to her his dream to be a writer like dear old Harlan. 

Sure, it’s only been his dream for the last couple of weeks, but she doesn’t need to know that. He’ll get her on his side, so that when he deals the final blow to Harlan and the book is published, his most valued companion is supporting the very thing that humiliates him.

He’s decided to tell her that the reason he wants her to read it is that he needs someone to critique his work, to get a new set of eyes on it (and damn if that probably isn’t the truth…).

Once he has Marta’s support he’ll pursue publication in secret. He knows it’s good enough on its own. He could trade on being Harlan’s grandson, but fuck that. Fuck his whole family. This is going to be his and his alone. Which ironically means a pen name.

He still can’t seem to think of a name for “Ransom” in the book. 

Maybe it’s ego. Or maybe he wants Marta to read his name a hundred times… 

Fucking fuck, refocus. 

Get Marta on board. Find a publisher. Rub Harlan’s face in his success. The fact that the rest of his family will be called out publicly is just the cherry on top. 

Marta is just part of the plan. Some stupid dream doesn’t change that. 

* * *

Ransom pulls up to the house just after lunch. Harlan tends to like an hour or two to himself after meals to digest and quietly reflect in his attic study. That summer Ransom spent as his research assistant is paying off in spades. Ransom cuts the engine and sits in his car for a moment, suddenly realizing that maybe the reason Harlan hired him on to help research for his book was to let him into his world. Get him interested in writing. Maybe Ransom was just too stubborn and selfish to see it for what it was. As he recalls he spent most of his time complaining and eating cookies… 

Ransom shakes himself out of his reverie. He snorts to himself. He’s never done this much self-reflection in his whole life. It pretty much sucks; real-life-Ransom is such an asshole. Not as much of an asshole as book-Ransom, but that’s a pretty low bar.

Fran comes to the door when he knocks and just raises an eye-brow. “Hugh, what are you doing here?”

Ransom internally rolls his eyes. If he’s going to pull this thing off, he can’t just convince Marta he’s changing. He’ll have to go whole-hog. 

Which means being nice, _ugh_ , to Fran. 

“Hey Fran,” he says with what he hopes is a self-deprecating smile. A few weeks ago he wouldn’t have been sure that was her name, or, he would have at least pretended not to know her name. 

Now from his research for his book, he probably knows more about Fran than Harlan or even Marta. It turns out her husband has cancer and she’s barely making ends meet. He changed those details in the book, just like he did Joni’s shitty childhood. He wants to expose his family’s skeletons, not roll around in their mystery. Huh, maybe real-life-Ransom isn’t as shitty as he once was.

Fuck he’s just standing there, lost in thought. 

Fran for her part is staring at him blankly, having never been directly addressed by name before.

Ransom brings a hand up to the back of his neck, shit this really is awkward, he doesn’t need to do much acting. “Is Marta here? I actually wanted to talk to her about something.” 

Fran’s eyes narrow. “Why do you want to talk to Marta? Think you can sweet-talk her into convincing Harlan to buy you a yacht or something?” 

It’s Ransom’s turn to narrow his eyes. Fran isn’t usually this mouthy. Looks like word has spread that the family has been cut off. 

He schools his face into something impassive. He won’t insult her like he once would have, but he draws the line at sucking up to this woman. Just because her husband is dying and he’s been cut off doesn’t mean she suddenly gets to talk to him that way. He has to keep it together, remember that this is part of a bigger endgame.

He huffs a breath and takes a step into the house past Fran. 

Usually he would demand she get him a drink or a snack, but he doesn’t want to push it. He’s about to just search through the house to find Marta himself when Fran clears her throat. Right, they are both just standing awkwardly in the foyer. 

“Did you need anything, Hugh?” she asks. Guess she remembers it’s her job to be polite to guests after all.

Ransom feels like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. His old habits and instincts warring with the new façade he wants to present. And there’s a third identity lurking under all that, some little voice in his head telling him Fran’s husband probably has six months to live, and they never had kids, and her stupid mortgage is overdue. Why the fuck did he have the PI look into Fran.

“No thanks Fran… I… look everyone calls me Ransom, so you probably should too. If you want.” Ransom’s face is hot. God damn it. He doesn’t know why he said that. 

He’s forced the help to call him Hugh for years. He started it as a mouthy teen. Some stupid power play to ensure they knew their place, that they don’t have the familiarity with him to call him what his shit family does (though he’s probably spent just as much time around them). 

Fran is frozen in place. He’s pretty sure if he nudged her she would fall right over. Eventually she gives a jerky little nod, and he escapes into the winding house to find Marta. 

* * *

Marta turns in her comfortable seat out on the second-story deck to see who has opened the door. Fran usually leaves her be during what they have dubbed Harlan’s “quiet hours.” Throughout the day he takes some time to himself, usually after meals. During that time, she and Fran will also take a break. Fran watches her soap opera or works on some knitting. Marta usually likes to enjoy a hot mug of tea or coffee out on the deck with a book. 

She nearly jumps out of her seat when she sees Ransom walk out. He’s dressed as he usually is, everything neat and pressed, looking like it’s the first time he’s worn the clothes. A soft-looking sweater peaks out from his camel coat, an even softer-looking silk scarf is draped around his neck.

She puts her bookmark in the old novel she’s reading (not one of Harlan’s, she read through all of those in her first six months working for him) and stands. She knows she’s entitled to a break, Harlan’s care doesn’t actually take all day. She’s really just here to be on-call (and to be his friend). 

But she can’t help but feel like she’s been caught doing something. Or rather, doing nothing. Fulfilling some lazy immigrant stereotype the Thrombeys all surely subscribe to.

“Hello.” She says, clutching her book. She never calls him Ransom, or Hugh. It’s petty but she can’t stand his stupid rule about “the help” calling him Hugh. So she just, never calls him anything. 

“Hi” he says, a bit awkwardly. That’s strange, Ransom is never awkward. Flippant, acerbic, short, bored, even jovial occasionally… but never awkward. Marta raises her eyebrows, unsure what he could possibly want with her. She’s about to tell him that Harlan is having a rest, when he speaks.

“What are you reading?” he motions to the book in her hands. 

It doesn’t sound like an accusation, just a genuine question. This is very strange. “Answered Prayers, by Truman Capote.” she says.

“Huh, oh yeah he never finished that one, right?” Ransom strides over and takes the seat next to the chair she was just sitting in. 

Marta sits back down, happy to discuss her book, though it seems Ransom has been taken over and is now a pod-person.

“Yes, it’s a mystery if the final chapters exist at all. Some of the ones that were published caused quite a stir, as the characters were based directly on several of Capote’s high-society friends. Apparently, they were not thrilled with how they were portrayed.” 

To Marta’s further bewilderment, Ransom lets out a loud genuine laugh. She can’t help up smile in return. For a moment he looks young, and happy. 

“Is that funny?” she asks. 

“It’s hilarious,” replies Ransom, “Because I’m actually here in that very same spirit.”

Marta can only shake her head, maybe Ransom is on drugs? He isn’t making any sense.

“You’re here in the spirit of Truman Capote?” again, confusion bleeds into her tone but she’s careful not to be rude. 

Ransom pulls off his scarf and fiddles with it in his hands. “I’m actually here… I’m here because I’m writing a book. It’s about my family, and you’re in it too.” His face pulls into a wry grimace, like he’s expecting her to start berating him or something. Dios, this family. 

“You’re writing a book?” Marta repeats slowly. She is so shocked she almost forgets the second part of what he’s said. “And _I_ am in it?”

“Yeah, look, not in some creepy stalker kind of way. The whole family is in it. Harlan, Walt, Joni, my parents. Everyone. It’s a murder mystery, and I… fuck this sounds really really stupid when I say it out loud.” Ransom’s cheeks are pink and he looks a little lost. 

Marta has no great love for Ransom, but she has always held out hope that he (and everyone in the Thrombey family) has more depth than it would seem on the surface. 

“Wow, that’s really amazing. Have you completed any chapters?” she finds herself asking.

Ransom coughs, sticking his hand into his coat pocket. He pulls out a small thumb drive. “Yeah it’s… I have maybe two-thirds of it done?” He hands the thumb drive to Marta and she takes it, holding it carefully like it’s made of glass. 

“Oh, do you want me to give it to Harlan?”

“No!” Ransom jumps up, almost in a panic. “Jesus, no, I don’t want Harlan to read it. I mean, not yet. I…” Ransom runs his hands through his hair. “Shit sorry, I’m kind of all over the place, I’ve been working on writing this thing for like two weeks straight.” 

Marta is considering that aliens have actually abducted Ransom and replaced him with whoever this is in front of her. Ransom just said the word ‘sorry.’ And that he has been working hard. On a novel.

“You’ve already completed two-thirds of it, and you’ve only been writing for the last two weeks? Since… since your grandfather’s birthday party?” 

Marta is connecting the dots and her heart expands a little. Marta does not enjoy hearing Harlan’s machinations for his family, but she knows that the night of the party he cut everyone off totally from his financial support. It is not her place to weigh in, but she has told Harlan it may have been best to slowly extricate himself. She was planning to ask if he really won’t be paying for the rest of Meg’s school once things have cooled down a bit.

And here is Ransom, who honestly, she thought might go on a bender, or never speak to his grandfather again, dealing with being cut off by… writing. 

Ransom paces in front of her. “Look, I don’t know, I guess I’ve always thought about writing you know? Stories come to me, but I just… I never really thought it was something I could do. Grandad’s the writer in the family, and how could anyone else ever measure up? He’s published like 50 books… but I don’t know, it just happened. I want to make something for myself, I don’t want to just…” 

He turns away from Marta, and she desperately wishes she could see his face.

“I don’t want Harlan to know until it’s finished. Published even. I don’t even know if I’ll _ever_ tell him, maybe it’s total shit.” Ransom turns back to Marta. 

“That’s why I thought of you. I wanted to ask if you would read it? Tell me what you think? You know the family, and honestly you’re the book’s target audience. You’re smart, interested in the genre…” He shrugs, like he hasn’t just complimented Marta for the first time ever. Like this isn’t the first actual conversation they’ve ever had.

Marta’s silence spurs him to fill the blank space between them. “And, like I said there’s a character in it that’s based on you, “Carla.” So I figured you deserve a chance to read it, weigh in if I should change something… I actually realized I don’t know much about you while I was writing. Are you from Brazil? That was a total guess, I’m pretty sure it’s not right.”

A small laugh escapes Marta. “Yes, it’s a funny thing, your family cannot seem to ever remember where I am from. I’m Cuban, though I’ve been in the U.S. for over twenty years.” 

Ransom snaps his fingers and pulls out his phone. “Cuba, great… actually I can probably use that, each family member assuming you’re from a different country, that’s really perfect.” 

Marta clears her throat, hand still clasped around the flash drive. “I’d be happy to read it, I’ll even set aside _Answered Prayers_.” She puts the drive into her pocket and smiles at Ransom, who is genuinely smiling back. 

“I do have one condition, though” says Marta, suddenly serious.

Ransom nods, as if he’s expected this to be transactional. Marta wants to roll her eyes.

“I don’t want my character to be called Carla!” she grins, as Ransom’s face opens in surprise. 

He laughs, “Okay that’s easy enough to change. Can I ask why?”

“Yes, there was this girl in my class when I was young, under ten maybe. She was so horrible. Always whispering to the other girls, a “mean girl” I think is the term? Her name was Carla, and that’s all I think of when I hear that name.” 

Ransom nods and makes a new note in his phone before looking up and asking “Okay so not Carla. Is there a name you’d prefer?”

Marta thinks for a moment. “How about Carmilla? It’s similar enough to Carla that it won’t trip you up to change this late in the process, but much prettier.” 

Ransom finishes typing and looks up at her, a small smile on his lips. “Agreed, very pretty.” 

Marta thinks for a second he isn’t just referring to the name. But that’s ridiculous, isn’t it? 

Her tea is cold and she’s due to check on Harlan, she needs to wrangle him into his compression socks, though he hates them. She runs the drive in her pocket through her fingers and stands. “I need to get back in, let me give you my number and I’ll text you once I’ve read it.” 

Ransom just hands her his phone open to his contacts. It’s a strangely intimate thing, to be holding this man’s phone. She doesn’t pry, but can’t help but see there are only two numbers in his favorites. His personal trainer and a local Thai restaurant. Her stomach twist, no of course, he wouldn’t have his family there.

She quickly enters her number and hands the phone back.

“I’ll be in touch.” she says with a final smile, before turning and walking back into the house. 

* * *

Ransom watches her return to the house and stands there, staring after her long after she’s shut the door. That went about as well as he could have hoped. He didn’t even feel like he was playing a role most of the time. Pleasure floods through him as he remembers Marta’s reaction to the fact that he is writing a book. 

_Wow, that’s really amazing._

Ransom has never heard that said to him so genuinely before. People say things _like_ that. Maybe from random people who like his car, or from some girl at a club when he’s told her the size of the private plane he was last on. Never about something he has actually done.

His throat tightens and he looks down at his phone to make sure she didn’t just enter “555-5555.”

There under his favorites is a new entry. 

Carmilla. 

Ransom closes his eyes and tilts his face back to soak up the warmth of the sun, and smiles. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ransom and Marta discuss the novel and have a moment.

One week later Marta has read the entire story on the flash drive. Three times.

She is honestly blown away. The story is engaging, and she feels like she knows the family (and that she would feel that way even if she didn’t  _ already _ know them). Her heart breaks especially for Meg and the character of Carla (soon to be Carmilla). Ransom has found a way to expose each family member while keeping them just human enough not to be caricatures. At several points Marta had to step away from the story. It’s one thing to deal with these people a few times a month, but to see the way they think, the way they treat her in black and white is something else.

As an immigrant Marta has become hardened to a lot, but as she reads the story her blood boils on behalf of her character. She knows it’s a fiction. The Thrombey’s and Drysdale’s have always treated her well enough… but as she reads she gets a new sick clarity about who they really are. 

After she finishes the first read-through (she reads non-stop, finishing it in only a day) she realizes she put her number in Ransom’s phone but didn’t send his number to herself. She will have to wait for Ransom to contact her. So she decides to re-read the story more slowly and add notes and comments to the document. There are a few places where he references something about the family that she knows more of the story from Harlan. She is careful to change the details, but knows there are a few spicy tid-bits that will make the story character’s motivations more interesting. 

He texts her the next day.

Ransom >> Hey, this is Ransom. I know you’re probably not done reading yet, I just realized you wouldn’t have my number for when you were finished. Thanks again  😊

Marta’s heart rate rises and she feels herself flush. She shakes herself. What is wrong with her? Ransom is… Ransom. And they are just texting about his book, it’s totally platonic. 

This reaction is just, it’s just because she hasn’t interacted with any men her age in… how long has it been? She’s always so focused on her family and Harlan. After some long thought she realizes it’s been over a year since she had anything resembling a date. And that was just a favor for her mother, the son of one of her mother’s Brisca card game ladies. They went for sea food and it fizzled into nothing. 

And maybe there  _ is _ something suddenly more appealing about Ransom, now that she’s read his story. Anyone who could write what he has written in such a short time has immense talent. A sharp insight into those around him that she admires… 

Marta considers texting back that she has already finished, but doesn’t want to seem too eager. Or like she has no life and has been devouring Ransom’s writing like fresh hot bunuelos.

Marta >> I realized that too  😊 I really like it so far, you have such a unique voice. I thought I might add some notes to the document if that’s okay? 

Marta hits send and walks away to do the dishes, hands tingling. She seriously needs to get a grip.

Her hands are just dipping into the soapy water when she hears her phone’s notification ding. She hasn’t washed a single dish yet… she quickly dries her hands and goes back to her room and lays on the bed to read Ransom’s response.

Ransom >> That would be amazing, really. I know you have better things to do than think about my stupid book haha

Marta is struck again by how strange this new Ransom is. He’s so different that she almost feels suspicious. Is this some sort of manipulation? A game? But she thinks back to the other day on the deck. Ransom’s blushing face. 

It feels very real.

Marta >> It’s not stupid. The prose reminds me a little of Zadie Smith, have you read her?

Ransom >> Just NW, but I’ll take that as a compliment! 

Marta is blown away. If you’d have asked her if she could imagine discussing literature with Ransom Drysdale a month ago she would have laughed herself sick. She trades texts back and forth with him for the rest of the afternoon.

When her mother comes home, she hears her exclaim from the kitchen that the sink if full of water, but the dishes have not been done. 

* * *

“You’re too hard on the Ransom character.” Marta says, taking a sip of her tea. They’ve been talking about Ransom’s book for half an hour, and Marta can’t remember the last time she had so much fun. 

It’s been one week since Ransom gave her the flash drive. They’re back in the same two seats they occupied at their last meeting out on the deck; Harlan is taking a post-lunch nap.

“Well, I haven’t written the ending yet so you don’t know where things are going, but the Ransom character isn’t a good guy. I think I’m just as hard on him as he deserves.” He lifts a shoulder in derision, which Marta can tell is aimed at the character and not herself.

“Yes, I know the character is not exactly a saint,” Marta responds. “But that is the case with all of the characters in the family, yes? And you have added in little stories or bits of information that humanize each of them… So why not Ransom?” 

Ransom raises his eyebrows in surprise. His face is hot. 

He blurts without thinking, “I guess it was harder to come up with redeeming characteristics for myself. I mean, what if there just aren’t any?” 

Shit, he’s losing his grip on the fact that he’s supposed to be playing a role here. After texting with Marta all week it’s too easy to talk to her. Too easy to say stuff like that without thinking. Shit.

Marta grabs his hand and asks, “Do you really think that way? Come on, you are usually your own biggest fan…”

Ransom looks down at their joined hands and can’t think. Fuck it, maybe there isn’t any point in pretending this is just some act of revenge anymore. He actually cares about the book. He actually cares about... 

He replies, “This probably isn’t a huge surprise Marta, but most of the time cocky assholes are just scared and full of shit.” He looks away. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. 

Marta lifts her other hand, lightly brushing his jaw with her fingertips, tilting his head back so that he’s looking at her. 

“You  _ are _ a cocky asshole.” she says.

Ransom laughs. 

“But you know, I think you have not said or done something asshole-ish in weeks.” she lowers her hand from his face and smiles a small smile like they’re on the same side. Sharing a secret. 

_ Shh, don’t tell anyone, Ransom isn’t a total piece of shit. _

Ransom starts, realizing that’s… true. Granted, he’s been largely isolated working on the book. But he’s been texting with Marta near constantly, just ideas he has, or questions for her to “work on the character of Carmilla.” Hell, he even text Meg to check in on her. It was just some stupid gif, but he can’t remember the last time he even initiated contact with her.

Marta goes on. “So, maybe you  _ were _ an asshole? And even if what you say is true of book-Ransom, there are things he does that made me want to root for him. When he told everyone in the family to “eat shit” one at a time I laughed out loud! Alice came into my room and demanded to see what it was thinking it was a meme or something…"

Ransom smirks, after hearing a bit about Alice over the last week he feels like he can picture it.

Marta looks thoughtful. “And even before, you never let your family get away with anything. Sure, you could stand to filter your thoughts a little, but if someone tried to say something you knew was wrong you would always speak up. I think that’s why Harlan always loves having you around, you say what he is thinking when he can’t.” 

Ransom considers this. “Yeah, until I say whatever I want to say to  _ Harlan _ and he loses it on me…”

Marta laughs. “Even then, maybe you are saying the thing Harlan needs to hear. My point is that as I read, it seemed like you were hardest on Ransom, which  _ definitely _ made me think he was the murderer! Is he?”

Ransom is impressed. He deliberately gave the draft to Marta before the reveal that book-Ransom is the murderer.

“Hmm you’ll have to wait and see.” he says.

She rolls her eyes playfully in response. “Well if  _ he is _ the murderer you should add in something to redeem him a little. It will throw people off the scent.” 

“Alright, got it. What else, hit me, what sucks?” he leans forward, and Marta’s heart pumps harder at the knowledge that he is genuinely interested to hear. 

* * *

Ransom leans forward, eager to know more. 

Hearing about the book from Marta’s perspective makes him realize that he’s really creating something. This isn’t just some personal revenge porn.

Marta looks thoughtful. “Honestly it’s great, I don’t have much else to critique… and I really was  _ hoping _ it would suck, because you  _ have _ been an asshole.” Her tone is light, and Ransom sinks into the warm comfort of Marta’s playful sincerity. 

That’s right, she can’t lie. She will literally spill her lunch if she does. 

Ransom thinks that it must be because of her digestive quirk that she tells the truth in such an irresistible way. Calm and full of good humor and compassion.

Marta continues, “Yes, an asshole. For years. I was looking forward to taking you down a peg.”

Ransom swallows and shifts awkwardly in his chair, the idea of Marta “taking him down a peg” causing the blood in his body to rush below the waste. 

He tries to focus back on their conversation. Marta really has been incredibly kind, given how he’s treated her all this time.

He realizes she’s still holding his hand. He squeezes it, saying “I owe you an apology. I’m… trying okay? I really am trying to be less of an asshole. So this is probably the first step.” He takes a deep breath and looks her in the eye. She deserves that at least. 

“I’m sorry I always treated you so poorly, calling you “the help,” dismissing you, that was really shitty and I knew it was when I was doing it.” Fuck he means it.

Marta gently touches his jaw again, even though he is already looking her in the eye.

“Thank you,  _ Ransom _ .”

Jesus, the way she says his name. Why the fuck did he deprive himself of  _ that _ for so long?

“I  _ can _ call you Ransom, right?” Marta raises a challenging eyebrow, eyes sparkling. 

Ransom can only nod, all his focus going toward willing down the errection he’s getting in response to her touch, her using his name. 

The thought of her taking him down, showing him how bad he’s been.

“Fran told me after you left last week that you told her she could call you Ransom. I wouldn’t have believed it before we started talking… she and I have traded theories you know. That you’re having an early mid-life crisis, or that you hit your head or something.” She says it with that same gentle humor in her voice. He can’t blame her.

“I don’t blame you.” he says. He squeezes her hand once more, and she looks down startled, as if she forgot their hands were still interlocked. She glances over her shoulder to the doorway, ostensibly checking if they are alone. She squeezes his hand back and then lets it go.

Ransom feels let down at the loss of contact, until Marta says, “I really mean it, Ransom. You are a little too hard on yourself. What you’re doing, what you’re writing. It’s really brave.” 

He snorts, eyes prickling. Fuck, he’s pathetic. 

One tiny bit of praise and he’s about to sob into Marta’s skirts. She doesn’t even wear skirts, always those sensible pants and sweaters. 

“Yeah real brave to shit-talk my family in a murder fantasy.” It’s more than he means to say, but Marta is unphased.

“It is brave.” she insists. “Your writing is genuine, authentic. And you said it yourself, you’re trying to change and be better. That’s really hard to do. I’m proud of you.” 

_ I’m proud of you _

That’s what does it. Because Marta can’t lie. 

His burgeoning errection is gone, but there are now tears in his eyes and he’s about to fucking cry in front of his grandfather’s nurse/his crush/the main character in his revenge novel. He’s so screwed. How has this become his life?

He gets up and turns away to stand near the deck railing facing the countryside, his back to Marta. Maybe he can play this off like he’s just thinking, keep his back turned to her until he has pulled himself together.

Marta comes up to him, ducking around him so she’s in front of him and he’s forced to look at her. His throat is tight, he can’t say anything. She seems to sense that words have taken them as far as they can.

Marta hugs him.

God she’s so warm. It feels like something he can barely remember, something he hasn’t felt since he was a kid. Maybe he only ever imagined it. He’s surrounded, even though Marta is physically only half his size. He’s wrapped up in cocoon of some amazing feeling.

A jolt runs through him as he realizes he feels safe. Understood. 

He’s barely had the chance to raise his arms to return her embrace when they are both startled out of it.

“Ransom! Marta? What’s going on here?” 

The old man’s voice cuts through the crisp fall air like a knife. They turn to see Harlan in the doorway, looking angry and confused.

Ransom flees.

He leaves Marta there on the deck as he brushes past his grandfather. He vaguely hears Marta responding to Harlan, but he doesn’t hear the words.

He is out of the house and in his car before he knows what’s happened. Ransom is almost all the way back home before he realizes he never got his flash drive back from Marta. Marta who hugged him. Who is proud of him.

He is so fucked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harlan you old devil, haha!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harlan gets a talking to. Ransom and Marta talk some more.

Marta is pissed.

First, she had to assure Harlan that Ransom wasn’t doing anything unwelcome, and that in fact she was the one that embraced him.

She does not generally get angry, especially with Harlan. But her emotions which were already heightened from her intense moment with Ransom are swinging in the opposite direction as Harlan continues to interrogate her like some rebellious teenager.

“-and I just don’t understand how this happened! I know he’s handsome but really Marta, what can you be thinking? You two have never even had a conversation. Unless, unless there  _ has _ been something going on that I wasn’t aware of?” Harlan finishes, still looking confused but no longer angry.

Marta sees red.

_ I know he’s handsome _

Like  _ that _ is why she hugged him? Like she is some, some floosy that just can’t help herself?

She takes a deep breath and counts to ten. Harlan is an old man, and he saw something he misunderstood. There is no need to get worked up. This is easy to explain. She wants to reply calmly, but there is a fire burning inside her at being talked at like, like some kind of fool. 

“Harlan, I was always under the impression that you respect me. That you do not look at me and see a child, or a fool?” her voice is quiet, just edged with the anger she is feeling. She is skirting impropriety with her employer, but Harlan already crossed that line as far as she is concerned.

He starts and goes a bit pale. “No, no Marta of course I don’t.” 

Harlan looks so frail suddenly. She sighs. In her heart she knows she was just comforting Ransom. She’s done nothing wrong. There is no mistaking what she saw. Telling him she was proud  _ hurt him _ . Not in a bad way, but in the way that a dog that has been kicked all its life doesn’t know how to be pet. 

If she’s honest she would tell Harlan about helping with Ransom’s book. If she were  _ really _ honest she would tell Harlan that despite being given everything all his life, Ransom seems to have missed out on receiving some pretty basic things, like compassion and emotional support.

Time for some creative truth telling. She will take a page out of Ransom’s literal book and tell Harlan the truth, but not everything.

“Ransom came by last week and we talked. We ended up talking again today and he apologized for how he has acted in the past. I think you cutting him off has caused him to do a great deal of self-reflection. What you saw - though I don’t think it is very much your business since I am your employee and I was on break - was friendly hug.” She shrugs. “Does that clear things up? Do you need to know anything else? As my employer?” she pauses. “Or as my friend?”

Harlan considers her for a moment. “I apologize for how I approached you Marta, of course you have every right to a personal life and I didn’t mean to imply you owe me any explanations.”

Marta can hear the “but…”

“But, I know my grandson.” Ah, there it is. “I want to caution you to be careful, especially if you are thinking of anything beyond friendship. Ransom rarely thinks of anyone but himself.” 

Marta wants to jump to Ransom’s defense. Wants to tell Harlan about Ransom’s incredible talent, that there is more to him than that. But she doesn’t want to betray Ransom and spill the news about the book before he is ready. And she isn’t an idiot. She’s only “known” this new and improved Ransom for about a week. A couple of conversations and a week of texting don’t mean she knows Ransom better than his own grandfather.

“Thank you, Harlan. I know you just want what’s best for me.” she smiles and looks at her watch. “Did you take your multivitamin with lunch, or do you need it now with a snack?”

Harlan scoffs and pulls his smoking jacket that he likes to wear around the house closer to himself. “If I have to choke down that horse pill, I’ll need some milk and cookies. And a game of Go.”

“You’re on” she says. 

As she walks Harlan inside, her hand touches the flash drive in her sweater pocket. She has kept it there all week (once the manuscript for Ransom’s book was downloaded to Alice’s laptop). All week she’s put her hand in her pocket when she thinks of Ransom, like a talisman. This morning she added the draft where she made all of her notes and was going to give it back to him. 

She decides to text him about it after work.

* * *

Ransom just drives. Usually it calms him down, but his mind won’t settle.

His whole body feels overheated, like he’s been in the sun all day. The press of Marta to him. 

He grips the steering wheel and tries to think of something else. It wasn’t sexual, their bodies didn’t even fully press together. It was just… comfort, acceptance. 

But tell his dick that. Fucking shit. This was not part of the plan.

Who knows what Harlan is saying to Marta about him? Probably to stay away from him. That he’s selfish, and he doesn’t deserve her, and that he’ll only hurt her. Ransom’s head pounds as he acknowledges to himself that that is probably all true. Or it would have been a month ago. Now he’s not sure. He feels like he’s spinning apart. 

He gets in the shower as soon as he gets home and roughly drags his fist over himself, the other hand bracing hard against the cool stone. He feels unbalanced. 

He imagines pulling Marta closer to him, running his hands down her back, cupping her ass and lifting her up to wrap her legs around his waist. She’d be so light. 

Ransom. 

He can still hear her saying it. That’s all it takes, he’s coming with her name on his lips. 

Jesus this is pathetic. 

He rinses off and goes to pace a now familiar tack around his living room. Jerking off to Marta in the shower wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it was a week ago out here on the sofa. She’s not some fantasy anymore. She’s real, and she’s helping him. 

And she makes him want to be better. 

He settles in front of the laptop and starts up the voice to text software. He probably doesn’t deserve her, not that he has a chance anyway. Marta would have to be a special kind of stupid to give him a chance after these long years of assholery. 

He resolves to make Carmilla the most badass character he can. He can at least show her how amazing she is through the story. 

Two hours later (and well into the chapter where Nancy the housekeeper is found injected with morphine in the abandoned laundromat), he gets a text. 

Marta >> Sorry about earlier. Do you want to get dinner tomorrow and discuss the book?

He can’t text back fast enough. 

Ransom >> Yeah that would be great, I know a place. It’s the restaurant that inspired the “Carmilla is interrogated after eating beans and sausage” chapter  😉

There he brought it back to the book. They’re just discussing the book, it’s not a date.

Marta >> Can’t wait, just don’t ask me any hard questions if I get the beans  😉

Ransom >> I promise.

* * *

Ransom hasn’t been this indecisive about an outfit since the first time he went to Burning Man. He settles on a simple white cable knit sweater and jeans. The sweater is non-threatening, and it makes him look bigger than he actually is, strong. He makes a mental note to have book-Ransom wear something similar while giving his beans and sausage lie-detector test in the story. Book-Ransom would probably think that far ahead. Pre-meditated sweaters. 

Marta meets him at The Flat Penny right on time, and she’s wearing a dress. Ransom never sees her in dresses, it’s always professional pants and button-ups, done up all the way to the neck. She looks beautiful. 

He smiles at her and he’s pulled into a brief hug in greeting, his pulse singing. 

He reminds himself this probably isn’t a date. The other afternoon just established them as friends. Friendly huggers. Hell, he kisses a lot of his friends on the mouth, it’s European. Marta is Cuban, she’s probably just being friendly. Right.

* * *

What the hell is she doing? 

When Marta left the house, Alice yelled at her “Good luck on your daaaaaaaate!” and she had just rolled her eyes. But… maybe she did subconsciously make this a date. She’s wearing her favorite dress. She put on make-up, just a little. And she borrowed one of Alice’s perfumes. 

Oh no. This is a date. With Ransom. She  _ likes _ Ransom.

She pulls up to the restaurant and is surprised to see Ransom is already there, out front waiting. Marta is pretty sure Ransom has never been early for anything. The idea makes her smile and she gives him a brief hug in greeting. Ransom’s arms linger around her for a beat before he lets go and opens the restaurant door for her. She doesn’t know what she is doing, but she can sense that Ransom is trying to be respectful of her, not cross any lines she doesn’t want him to.

She just needs to figure out what she wants.

The restaurant isn’t anything like what she imagined Ransom would pick. It’s homey, like a little cabin. There’s even a fireplace with an old ship’s wheel above the mantel. Marta thinks Harlan would like this place. They settle into the corner booth, and Marta hands over the flash drive. She’ll miss its small weight in her pocket. 

“I made some notes in the file,” she says, “probably too many.” The last comment is more to herself. Rather than just write suggested changes, she found herself complimenting particularly evocative passages, or adding little thoughts on the characters that weren’t strictly necessary. 

He takes the drive from her, their fingers brushing. 

“That must have been annoying, making notes as you read” he says. 

Marta squirms, but she can’t lie. “Well I read it, and then I read it again and added my notes.”

“Wow, so you read it twice?” Ransom looks pleased.

Marta wants to melt into the ground. But it won’t do to start gagging on a lie before they’ve even gotten their drinks. “I read it… three times.”

Ransom lets out a delighted laugh.

“I don’t know Marta, I’m starting to think you might be a little too invested in this. Three times? Really?”

“Shut up, it’s a good story alright?” she shoves him a little and takes a look at the menu.

Yes it’s a date.

* * *

Ransom means to keep their conversation focused on the book.  _ Knives Out _ , he’s thinking of calling it.

But once they order, Marta asks him “So do you come to this restaurant often?”

And he tells her “Yeah maybe a couple of times a month, when I’m sick of Thai food and don’t want to cook.”

“You  _ cook _ ?” Her tone is so incredulous that Ransom almost feels insulted.

“I mean, “cook” is probably too generous a term? I make simple stuff, sandwiches, drink protein shakes, heat up prepared meals that I get from a nutritionist… I know, I’m a cliché.”

Marta scrunches her nose and laughs. “I’ve never actually had Thai food.” she says.

“You should try it, I know all the best places…” He trails off before he can ask her to go to one of them with him. This definitely feels like a date.

They talk for hours until finally the restaurant needs to close. 

They touch on the book, but more often than not they get side-tracked. Marta tells him more about her family and her interests. Ransom talks about his summer as a research assistant for Harlan and some of the places he’s traveled, mostly through a chagrinned self-aware lens. 

When their waiter comes by holding a mop they are basically thrown out (politely). Neither of them wants the night to end. Ransom walks Marta to her car and they hover there, looking at each other like a couple of idiots.

Marta swallows, and edges slightly closer. He really wants to kiss her. But he’s afraid he’s misread tonight, this whole thing. And even if she does want him, things are so messed up… he should probably do the right thing and try and keep his relationship with Marta simple. Stay just friends. 

He leans in too, resting an arm over her shoulder on her car behind her. 

Marta’s close now, close enough to run a hand lightly over his chest, grazing her fingers over the knit of his sweater. She looks up, eyes wide, shining in the light cast by the nearest streetlight. 

Fuck it.

He slides the hand that isn’t resting on her car up to cradle her head, guiding her mouth up to his. 

Ransom has kissed a lot of people. It’s just a fact. The mechanics of his kiss with Marta aren’t special. But it’s the best he’s ever had. Out in the parking lot of The  _ god damn _ Flat Penny Bar and Grill. 

His warring natures are back. He wants to shove Marta up against her economy car and thrust his tongue against hers and take… god, just take. But he also wants Marta to keep thinking of him as a stand-up guy. Wants her trust. Wants her to want him back.

So after several long moments he places a final tender kiss on her lips and shifts back, putting his hands in his pockets. 

“So.” he says, grinning, but feeling self-conscious. He doesn’t know how to do this. 

Marta smiles back, pulling her hand away from his chest to pull her hair behind her ear. She crosses her arms against the chilly air and tries to think of what to say. Now that her endorphins are calming down, she thinks of what Harlan said just yesterday. And reminds herself that they haven’t really been talking for long. 

She says carefully, “This… could get complicated…” 

Ransom nods quickly, face open in agreement. She has no idea. 

Hot shame sweeps over him at the fact that he only reached out to her initially to manipulate her in his scheme to get one over on Harlan. He doesn’t think of her in that way now but it doesn’t change how this started, or that he still plans to publish the book without Harlan’s knowledge. To hurt him. He’s sure Marta wouldn’t want anything to do with him if she knew that.

And if he’s honest, he’s terrified. He’s never been in an actual relationship where he’s  _ cared _ about the other person. He’s never let someone close like this. He wants to run away again like that morning on the deck.

“Yeah, Marta, I … I really like you.” She smiles in response and he almost abandons what he needs to say next. But his fear is stronger than whatever this is that Marta brings up in him. 

“But I’m not… I’ve only been not-an-asshole for like a month? And you work for my grandad; like you said, it’s complicated. So I think, we probably need more time before we jump into anything?” 

Ransom’s heart aches at the realization that he isn’t just running away because he’s scared. He doesn’t want to lie to her anymore. He doesn’t want to trick her. And he doesn’t trust himself not to slip right back into being a selfish prick the moment things get hard. 

Marta looks at him like she’s trying to look inside him. She must be satisfied with what she sees, because she responds, “I agree. We’ll take some time. There’s no reason to rush things.”

Ransom sighs in relief, pushing aside the led weight in his stomach. “Over the next few weeks I’m going to focus on finishing the book, but, can I call you? You know, to talk about the book.” 

“Of course,” says Marta, looking a little sad though she is smiling. “I want to hear all about it.” 

He nods and pats her on the shoulder awkwardly before turning to walk to his car. He gets in and looks back at Marta to make sure she got in her car okay, but she’s already gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can a fic with only 7 chapters be a slow burn haha?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ransom continues to mature, and finishes his book.

They text and talk over the next few weeks. Not as much as before, but often. Ransom takes her out to lunch for Thai food. Marta wears pants. It’s friendly. 

They share brief hugs, and no more. Neither one seems to know exactly what “some time” means, but they are both simultaneously tortured and relieved to keep things in a holding pattern. 

Harlan has not asked Marta about Ransom again, and Ransom has stayed away from the Thrombey manor. 

One afternoon Marta invites Ransom to come help her pick out a birthday gift for Alice. They spend the afternoon in Beacon Hill, exploring the shops and eating ice cream from J.P. Licks. Marta insists that she pay since Ransom is only there to do her a favor by helping shop for Alice. 

Ransom drops Marta off at home in the evening, and is practically drug inside by an over-excited Alice to meet their mother. He ends up staying for dinner (“Eat, eat, you must eat” says Marta’s mom). He’s overwhelmed by the open, warm feelings that hang around all of them so effortlessly. Spending time with his own family has never felt half as comfortable. 

As dinner finishes cooking he tries to relax and get to know the Cabreras, but all he can think of is what Marta must have told them about him. How can they be so welcoming? Maybe Marta doesn’t talk about the Thrombey family… or maybe they are just good people, like Marta. He is shocked to realize that it’s easy to be good to them in return. For weeks he’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the selfish, ugly version of Ransom from his book and his recent past to rear his head.

But he is a kind of mirror to those he is with. Marta, her family, even the random people he meets while running errands. They treat him well and he does the same. It’s easy. It makes him take stock of the people he was surrounded by before. His family, his privileged friends. He’d always felt like every interaction was a game, or a battle he had to win. Never let your guard down, never let them have the last word. 

As a result, interactions were exhausting, and he tended to avoid them if he could (or get buzzed as quickly as possible in social situations).

In contrast when Alice teases him, or Marta’s mother accidentally misunderstands something he said, he finds it’s not his first reaction to mock or ridicule them. To get defensive. It’s like an out of body experience to realize that the defense mechanisms he’s been building for decades are simply not needed. And what’s more, spending time with them isn’t draining at all.

Hours later he’s stuffed full of rice and beans and ropa vieja. 

“I think Cuban food may have replaced Thai as my favorite” he says. He means it, it isn’t meant as a kiss-ass, but he blushes slightly when Marta beams at him and her mother insists he takes the leftovers home. 

He thinks about going back to his empty glass house. He doesn’t want to; with all the laughter and pleasant conversation, plus a full belly, he already feels like he’s home. 

It gets late and Marta walks him back to his car. The Cabreras live in a pretty decent neighborhood, but there wasn’t a ton of parking when they got there and he had to park a block or so away.

As Marta announces what they are doing, Alice calls out from the sofa, “No fair, now I can’t spy on your goodnight kiss!”

Ransom coughs as Marta yells something back at her in Spanish and pushes him out the door.

“Thank you for a lovely evening!” he calls back, laughing as he’s shoved forcefully by Marta (who has surprising strength) out onto the porch. 

They walk in comfortable silence back to the beamer. Marta is embarrassed by Alice’s talk of a goodnight kiss, but doesn’t want to bring it up and break their unspoken truce that they are not talking about this thing between them. Continuing to take their time…

“So, Alice is kind of an instigator, huh?” asks Ransom as they reach the car. 

Marta laughs and blushes. “Yes that is one thing you could call her. She’s the baby so she gets away with everything. But she’s good. She is thinking of becoming a doctor. My mother will die and go to heaven if that happens, she almost had a stroke when I graduated with my RN. I’m pretty sure the audience is still partially deaf from her yelling at the ceremony.” 

“Your family is great.” Ransom says. Wistful. His parents were on holiday somewhere when he graduated; he didn’t bother going to the ceremony. They sent him a check for $100,000. No card, just a check in an envelope, with “Graduation” in the subject line. 

Marta looks at him, and replies “I know, they are. Your family… is not great.” 

Ransom grabs his stomach and laughs hard before saying, “Don’t! I’m full of ropa vieja!” He leans back against the CSi, trying to catch his breath. “They really are… not great.” he says, sobering. 

Marta copies his pose and leans next to him on the car, putting the door handle between them to keep a friendly distance. “But they’re not _all_ bad. Harlan is trying. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but him cutting everyone off was him trying to do right by them. And Meg is good, I really believe that deep down she is.”

Ransom nods. “She could turn out alright, if she had people… someone to help her. I’m realizing lately that a big part of how people turn out depends on the kind of people they surround themselves with.” 

Marta thinks to herself that that’s a pretty basic concept to just now be grasping, but doesn’t say that because, well, at least he’s trying.

“ _You_ could be that person for her. You could work at building up your relationship with Meg, and Harlan. Jacob really needs somebody too… but I’m not sure Walt would ever let that happen.” Marta feels a little weird discussing the family dynamic like this, but the book has so clearly laid out who all of them are. Or at least how Ransom sees them. She thinks about her own family, and her aunt and uncles in Cuba, all her cousins. She loves them so much, and Ransom has none of that.

Ransom blows out a breath of air. “Yeah I’m pretty sure Walt’s gonna isolate the kid until the only people he trusts are nazi incels. I’ve been texting with Meg some… I don’t know about Harlan.” 

Marta doesn’t push. She’s finding that all she really needs to do with Ransom is mention something, and then he will think on it in his own time. Usually he will bring it up, fully fledged and worked-through a week or so later. 

Her mind wanders back to the last time they lingered by a car, that night after their definitely-a-date. She swallows and pushes off. “I’d better get back; my mother will worry.”

Ransom pushes off too but doesn’t get in his car. “I’ll call you next week, I think I’m close to finishing the ending.” 

Marta walks backwards down the sidewalk a few paces, keeping Ransom in view. “I can’t wait to see who the murderer/blackmailer is!”

Ransom smiles and watches as she turns around. 

He stays there on the sidewalk until he sees her open the front porch door. 

* * *

He’s done it. Ransom feels like a sponge that’s been wrung out and left to dry in the desert. His Knives Out document open on his MacBook is now over two-hundred pages long. 

He’s tempted to type “The End” but it feels unprofessional. Who the hell knows how these things are supposed to be written; he’s honestly thought about telling Harlan about the book once or twice just to get some professional pointers. Google has been a decent stand-in. Once Marta reads it and gives him her final notes, he wants to take a week or two and forget the whole thing. Then do one more pass and send it off to publishers. 

He drops by the manor briefly to give Marta the completed story on the flash drive. Fran greets him by name and he smiles at her in return. 

A few days later they meet up again at the Flat Penny to discuss the book. She hugs him and hands him his flash drive back with her notes, brimming with excitement.

“I can’t believe it,” Marta exclaims as they settle into their booth. “I was right, it was the Ransom character all along! But _why_ did it have to be him? I was so hoping he was good.”

“No can do, he’s an asshole.” replies Ransom, a small smile on his lips. “Though I guess they all are, except Carmilla. And Nancy I guess.”

“Well at least call him something different! He can’t be “Ransom,” especially if you want to remain anonymous. Why don’t you call him… Randy?”

Ransom laughs, “No, that’s terrible.”

“Hmm, okay, what about… Hugh? A name you used to be, but aren’t any more. Oh! And that way when Nancy is dying she can tell Carmilla “ _Hugh_ did this…” but it will sound like “ _you_ ”!” 

Ransom takes out his phone and makes a note. “That’s perfect. Hugh it is… you know I should probably add you as a co-author on this thing, I feel like I use every idea you’ve suggested.”

“No, you don’t, I wanted Ransom, well Hugh, to be a good guy in the end!” 

Ransom has the urge to take her hand, but instead he grabs a menu. “But who would the murderer have been then?”

Marta thinks. “Maybe Nancy the house-keeper? You wrote she has a family member that is ill and she is in dire straits?”

“But then the reader doesn’t get their righteous justice moment, seeing the rich asshole get what’s coming to him.” says Ransom as he hides behind his menu a bit. He can’t take another lecture from Marta about how he’s changed, how he’s not the same as the Ransom in the book.

Marta hums and looks at her own menu. “That’s true. It was a very satisfying ending. Carmilla wins and gets all the money. Her family is safe and the “Pembrooks” get nothing.” 

Ransom sets his menu down and watches Marta as she looks over her own. 

“I figured she deserves it.” he says. It comes out softer than he means it to.

Marta smiles into her menu and looks up, face sincere. “I loved the last page, where she looks down on all of them from the balcony… finally she is the one to look down on them, literally. I know this was more a personal story for you, but, I think the way you have written it is a really important look at class… at how people view immigrants. I actually cried a little bit at the end. So many people like me and my family don’t get Carmilla’s happy ending.” Her eyes are shining now. Ransom wishes the table wasn’t between them.

He wants to pull Marta close. God he really is an asshole. Ransom wanted to capture his family as they are, and Marta too. He wasn’t trying to make some big statement, but somehow he’s managed to write something true. Something that actually might mean something.

He feels genuinely proud of himself for a moment, but then he remembers how this all started.

Marta sets down her menu and they order their drinks. “I think you should take the book to Harlan now. He’ll see everything more clearly because of it. He’ll see _you_.”

Ransom squirms. “I don’t know, it’s… this is shitty I guess but I kind of just wanted to try and get it published, and… watch the fireworks, you know?” His face burns. Here it is, Marta will be disappointed in him. See his real motive for the book.

She leans on the table a bit and puts her head in her hand, thoughtful. “Hmm, maybe you could shop it around to some rival publishers, and then take it to Harlan once you have an offer in hand? You could see if he will beat it? I know that would drive Walt absolutely crazy, and it’s really the winning move with Harlan too. He’ll have to admit he isn’t the only thing keeping his publishing company afloat, maybe you could even negotiate for partial ownership or shares of Blood Like Wine Publishing?

Ransom’s eyes widen. “Why… would I care about that?”

Marta snorts. “Oh please Ransom, if you don’t think I see what this whole thing started as, you haven’t been paying attention. This book is a major f-you to your family. It’s a way to stick the knife in Harlan and all the others.” 

Ransom is a deer in headlights.

Marta goes on. “But that’s okay, they kind of deserve it. Even Harlan, though I don’t think he’ll hate it as much as you think. Harlan isn’t a saint either, and him cutting everyone off like that was a pretty jarring thing to do… And anyway, you changed everyone’s names. And it’s too good not to publish.” Marta sips the lemonade that has just been delivered looking pleased with herself. 

“So you’ve known this whole time? That the book was just…” Ransom can’t even articulate what it is.

“What? That your book was part of a big plot to put your family on blast? That you wrote it because you were burned about Harlan cutting you off?” Marta shrugs. “Yeah I mean, it was kind of obvious…”

Ransom folds his arms over himself, feeling a bit humiliated. 

Marta kicks him lightly under the table. “You write in the book that Carmilla always beats Garland at chess, right? I wondered if you knew that your grandfather has never beaten me at Go?”

He nods, still too shocked to speak.

“So you know I’m not some silly doe-eyed girl…” Marta raises an eyebrow.

“I do know that!” says Ransom. “Carmilla isn’t that way in the book, not really.”

“Right, and I’m not either. Look, I’m not mad Ransom. Your motivations are your own. And like I said, I’m pretty sure Harlan will actually love the book.” 

Ransom is burning up, with what he doesn’t know. Anger? Embarrassment? Relief? Marta seems to be ambivalent, even accepting that he’s been misleading her this whole time. Well, he guesses he wasn’t misleading her since she seemed to know his motivations from the start. 

He tries to regain his footing in their conversation. “I do know that you’re not naive… I’ve been feeling pretty guilty about misleading you. Or, trying to… and, really quickly I realized I care about the book and it wasn’t really about Harlan anymore. I didn’t mean to-“

Marta nudges his foot again, interrupting “Of course you care. I know that. You’re not like you were. You’re good.” 

_Of course you care._

_You’re good._

Shit.

He knows he has to do it. Tell her the last part. Harlan probably will anyway, maybe not tomorrow but sometime soon if Ransom keeps seeing her.

If he wants to keep seeing Marta, she deserves to know.

“I have to tell you something.” he says. He feels sick. 

Marta sits up straight, sensing he’s serious. 

“That night, the night of Harlan’s birthday party. I stormed out because… it wasn’t just that Harlan cut me off.” Ransom takes a good look at her, this may be it, he should take one last look. 

“Harlan really is leaving you everything Marta. It’s not just a plot point for the book. None of us get anything. It’s all going to you. The house, the money, Blood Like Wine Publishing. All of it.” 

The blood drains from Marta’s face, and she sits back in the booth, dazed. 

“That’s… not possible.” she says. 

The waitress comes up at that moment. “Aaaand have we decided?” she asks. Totally unaware of the incredible tension between them. 

“We need a minute.” says Ransom. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What would happen if Marta knew about the money when Harlan was alive... And what does this mean for Ransom and Marta's relationship? Dun dun duuuuun...


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ransom finishes the book. Marta is finished with Ransom*
> 
> *For now... They totally end up together.

Marta is shocked into a long silence. She isn’t sure how long they sit there, just staring at each other. Eventually Ransom breaks it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before now. I wish I could say I didn’t feel like it was my place, that I had some noble reason… but I was just… it was the part that made me so angry. I didn’t want to have to tell you that. I’m not, I don’t feel that way any more. You really do deserve it.”

Marta nods slowly, her face difficult to read.

Marta’s face is never difficult to read.

“I deserve it.” She says it like the words are in some foreign language she doesn’t know. No inflection. 

“I deserve it… and _you_ deserve it, too, right?” She nods again, eyes wide. “That’s why you’ve been so nice to me? That’s why you’ve been doing all this.” She motions between them with her hand. “I’ll get the money, and if we are together, you will get your inheritance back.”

Ransom isn’t surprised her mind went there. Hell, of course he entertained the idea. It was the foundation of why he wanted to take a step back. Take things slow.

“No. Marta no I swear. Not… I mean yes I was playing you in the beginning, I just asked you to read the book because I wanted to get one over on Harlan like you said, but I never in a million years thought we would _be together_.”

Marta looks offended now.

“Shit, I’m not… you have to know that after I realized this was about more than revenge, this thing between us was never about anything other than that I liked you. At first I just wanted to win you over so you’d support the book to Harlan. But how I feel about you has nothing to do with you inheriting Harlan’s money one day.” Even as he says it, he knows there’s no way she can trust it. Trust him.

As if she’s reading his mind, she says, “I wish it was as simple as feeding you a bowl of beans and sausage, putting an empty bowl in front of you, and asking you for the truth… But you must see. How could I ever believe you now?”

Ransom sits back in his chair. He can’t look at her. He does see. He has run through every play, like there's a Go board spread out in front of him. There's no winning play.

All he can say is, “I know, I’m sorry.”

Marta leaves.

* * *

Over the next month Ransom does nothing but work out, eat, sleep, and work on the book. The following month he gets three offers from major publishers. He wants to text Marta, but he doesn’t think she wants to hear from him.

That night after she left The Flat Penny, he text her before he went to bed, hoping she hadn’t blocked him. 

Ransom>> I know there isn’t anything else to say… I just wanted to thank you. Your friendship has meant a lot to me. I hope you know that I’m still your friend, if that’s what you want.

She didn’t respond, and he hasn't heard from her since.

With three offers in-hand, he goes to Harlan to execute Marta’s plan. He pulls up and walk-runs to the door. He’s wearing jeans and his white cable-knit sweater. No scarf. He wants Harlan to see him as down-to-earth. And since his first “date” with Marta, he’s associated the sweater with luck. 

He shakes his head as Fran opens the door. Stupid.

Fran smiles a small half-smile at him. They aren’t BFF’s, but over the last few months she has thawed to him considerably.

“Are you here to see Marta?” she asks. 

It stings a bit, but he tries to not let it show on his face. “No, I was actually hoping to see Harlan. If now is a bad time I can come back… I guess I should have called.” His cheeks warm as he realizes dropping in like this all the time is probably rude. A “book-Ransom” move, as he’s liked to start thinking of them.

Fran’s eyebrows approach her hairline at hearing Ransom suggest he should have been more thoughtful.

“No… I mean, Harlan is always happy to see you. I’ll go let him know you are here.” 

Ransom stands in the entryway, anxious in a very high-school way that Marta will find him before he can go up to see Harlan.

What would he say? What does she look like now? It's only been a couple of months but it feels like an eternity.

He need not have worried about being alone with her, because of course Marta was up in Harlan’s study with him keeping him company. His grandfather makes his way down the stairs, slower, Ransom thinks than he has in the past, followed by Marta. She glances at him briefly, looking awkward and hurries away with Fran, leaving him to stand in front of Harlan in an uncomfortable face-off. 

“Let’s go into the library,” Harlan suggests. It’s a big room, full of books and treasures from Harlan’s long life and career. The ever-present knife art piece sits omnipresent, a chair is in front of it.

Ransom considers sitting in it just to mess with him.

Maybe it’s having several months to self-reflect. Or maybe it’s seeing Harlan moving a little slower, a little stiffer than he did just a few months ago at his birthday party. Ransom feels the final small ember of anger he was holding on to burn out within him.

He hears Marta’s words in his head.

_You could work at building up your relationship with Harlan_

Harlan is looking at him impassively. Suddenly Ransom realizes that Harlan probably thinks he’s here to ask for money. He laughs at the ridiculousness of the idea, even though that has been the reason he’s come to see his grandfather so many times in the past... How to begin?

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but, I’ve written a book.” That’ll do it.

Harlan looks almost comically surprised for a few moments, before he composes himself and replies, “I had not heard that. What an undertaking… how would I have heard about it?” 

He seems genuinely puzzled; it’s not a crazy question. Ransom literally hasn’t said a word to him since the party. Fuck, his anger is gone, and it’s starting to be replaced with guilt.

“Over the last few months I’ve been getting some help with it from Marta. That’s why I was here that day… she really didn’t tell you?” Ransom was sure that would be the first thing she did, that or telling Harlan she knows about the will.

Harlan now looks troubled. Shit.

“I mean, I asked her not to tell, so it’s no great surprise she kept her word. I just figured she might.” 

This seems to answer whatever doubts Harlan had about Marta keeping something from him.

“So you’ve written a book, with Marta acting as a reviewer and sounding board. I can’t say it was a bad choice, I often ask her to weigh in on my books as well.” Harlan isn’t asking to read it, and Ransom can’t tell if this is some game, or if he’s trying not to pry. To infringe on Ransom’s hard-won independence. 

Ransom clears his throat and reaches into the bag he brought with him. He knows his grandfather. He’s old-school. He won’t review on a computer like Marta did. He went to a local print shop and had it professionally bound.

“I was wondering if you would read it.” He holds it out to him. For a beat his arm is just out there, manuscript extended toward Harlan like some sort of baton in a relay race.

Harlan reaches out and he smiles a small, genuine smile “I would be honored, my boy.”

Ransom has to fight down the hot tight feeling in his throat. Harlan only calls Ransom that, and only when he is very pleased with him. He has not heard it in years. 

Harlan hefts the copy in his hands. “You’ve written all this in just a few months?” 

Ransom huffs a breath, glad to have something concrete to address. “Yeah I mean, I’ve been really focused on it… I probably should have told you sooner. But I wanted to complete it; I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t serious.” 

He knows Harlan can decode “I should have told you” as “I should have swallowed my pride and come see you instead of ignoring you for months.” Ransom’s head starts to hurt, he forgot how hard it is to talk to his family. To say one thing, and mean another, always working to figure out what’s really going on. 

Harlan looks down at the cover. “Dodge Wetsfield? A nom de plume?”

Ransom shrugs “I know my last name isn’t Thrombey, but some quick research is all it would take to figure out I’m your grandson. I don’t want to ride your coat-tails. I want to do this on my own.”

Harlan nods, setting the copy of the book on the desk. “I very much look forward to reading it. I’ll call you next week when I’ve read and digested?”

Shit that may not work.

“That… should work. I actually shopped it around to a few publishers and have some offers for it. One of them, Random House I think, needs a response by Wednesday.” Ransom blushes, feeling like a kid asking if he can stay out past curfew.

This was supposed to be his triumphant “fuck-you” to Harlan, and it’s turning into a clumsy attempt to tell Harlan everything he meant to, while utterly excising the “fuck-you” part. He wishes Marta was in here with them. He hates the idea that Harlan will be the one to tell her about the publishing offers.

“What kind of royalties are you getting? Are they offering an advance?” Harlan’s interest is piqued.

Ransom smiles, not the shit-eating smile he always pictured he would have, but one that lets Harlan know he’s playing the game. “That information is definitely something I would tell my grandfather. But it’s definitely _not_ something I’d tell a prospective or rival publisher of my book.”

Harlan lets out a small disgruntled noise, but his eyes are proud. “Oh very well, let me read the thing and we’ll see about if Blood Like Wine wants to enter the fray.”

“By Tuesday.” Ransom reminds him.

Harlan laughs. “Here I was about to ask you to play a game of Go, but if it’s to be Tuesday, I’d better get cracking!” he taps his fingers on the manuscript. 

Ransom stands and leans down to pull his grandfather into a quick half-hug. It’s not even really a hug, since Harlan is still sitting down. More like, a leaning squeeze. It feels a bit strange; they’ve never really been huggers. But it was an impulse and Ransom doesn’t regret it. 

“See you Tuesday” he says, turning to leave, trying not to focus on the surprise and sentiment written all over Harlan’s face at the simple gesture. 

Being good it turns out is easy. The hard part Ransom realizes, is facing how he never tried enough before to realize just how easy.

* * *

Two days later Ransom is back in front of Harlan, this time in his downstairs study. He has a strange sense of déjà vu, having last been there to hear he was getting cut off.

Ransom doesn’t know how to start. He’s nervous. He lets Harlan take the lead.

“First, I want to tell you that this is a very accomplished novel. Not just an accomplished _first_ novel, but a genuinely engaging piece of writing that I am proud to say lives up to your potential.”

Fucking Christ. Ransom can’t hear shit like that.

He hasn’t had a kind word, or genuine compliment from Harlan in what seems like a decade. If he thought what he wanted was to piss Harlan off, to hurt him, it’s now abundantly clear that all he really wanted, maybe ever, was Harlan to be proud of him. And that thought is so painful he doesn't know what to do.

His emotions are all over the place, and he feels the bile in his throat, threatening to come up. He pictures Marta, trying to remain calm. 

He swallows. “I didn’t think you thought I had any potential.” he says. It comes out soft, hurt, not at all with the fire he thought it would.

Harlan smiles sadly. “Oh my boy, no. It’s because I always saw what amazing potential you had, that I was so hard on you. Indeed, I perceived that you were wasting it.” 

It stings, but Ransom can’t claim he's wrong. What has he done with his life, up until this point?

“I regret,” Harlan says, pausing to gather his own thoughts. “I regret that I may not have supported you in the way you really needed. I expected everything from you to spring forth on its own, fully formed, when I knew for a fact you weren’t given the tools you needed by my daughter and her husband.” He says the last part with some bitterness, and Ransom feels the sharp pain in his side reced.

“I never wanted for anything” Ransom demurs. 

He’s blamed his grandfather, his parents, everyone over the last few months. His whole life really. But in the end after finishing the book Ransom knew he had to also look inward. Having a family that wasn’t emotionally supportive certainly took a toll, but he’s been a grown man for fifteen years. His actions are on him.

And he’s making a change and not looking back.

“Never wanted for anything material, certainly” says Harlan, “but the rest…” 

“We can’t change the past, we’re here now.” says Ransom. Uhg he sounds like some cheesy self-help book.

He knows he owes his grandfather a real response, an acknowledgment of his own regrets. There are just so many. 

“I’m sorry I let you down.” he finally gets out. It’s not everything. It’s not “Sorry I got drunk at your book release party and tried to sleep with your lawyer’s assistant.” It’s not “Sorry I only ever came to you with my hand out.” It’s not “Sorry I couldn’t see that you were trying, in your own way.”

But it’s enough.

“Oh my boy, you haven’t let me down. The book is good, very good. I wish I wrote it.”

Ransom barks a laugh and decides they’ve had enough feelings-talk.

“Yeah you’ve really been phoning it in the last couple of books…”

Harlan chuckles in turn, while at the same time looking a bit miffed. He raises a brow.

Ransom grins and holds up his hands “Okay, okay, your last books are gems, just as strong as your stuff from the 90s.” He tilts his head, curious. “You’re really not pissed that our family may be exposed as terrible, selfish assholes? I can hide behind a pen name for a while, but if it gets big and I do a book tour or any media people are going to figure it out.”

Harlan pretends to think for a moment. “No I think It may be just what some of them need. In fact, you were more kind to many of them than I could think to be.”

After some back and forth, Harlan offers Ransom a deal to be published under Blood Like Wine. It’s fair deal, and it is better than the next highest offer by five-thousand dollars, and several points on the back end. It feels real, like what Harlan would offer any book of Knives Out's caliber.

He also offers him a 10 percent stake in the company, should the book sell over 500,000 copies. It’s implied Ransom may be able to acquire more of the company in the future with future titles.

That alone makes Blood Like Wine a no-brainer, but if Ransom knows anything, it’s when to push for more.

“I want it to be made into a movie, or tv show.” he says. It’s no longer a move to stick it to Harlan, it’s just good business.

Harlan raises an eyebrow. “You know how I feel about adaptations of my work.”

“This isn’t your work.” volleys Ransom, and years of asking Harlan for things has him confident he’s about to get what he wants.

Grudgingly Harlan responds. “Alight… But you and Blood Like Wine get writer/director approval and final cut approval.”

“Deal.”

“You always could beat me at Go.” Harlan says, holding out his hand for Ransom to shake.

“Welcome to Blood Like Wine Publishing.”

Ransom beams, soaking in the moment. Then before letting his grandfather’s hand go laughs and says:

“Walt is going to shit.” 

Harlan laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harlan and Ransom 😭


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harlan and Ransom grow closer. Harlan tries to talk some sense into Marta.

For weeks Harlan and Ransom are holed up together putting the finishing touches on the novel.

Harlan insists Go should be the game his character plays with Carmilla. “It’s beautiful and deceptive in it’s simplicity.” He says. “Chess makes me seem like some old-fashioned stuff-shirt.” 

Ransom eyes Harlan in his silk smoking jacket and cravat, but says nothing, adding the note to make the change in his phone. They work well together, though there is still a lot of push and pull between them. Ransom is trying to get better at letting small things go, and calling Harlan out in a gentler way when he feels the need to. In return, Harlan is more effusive with praise and holds his censure to a minimum. 

Marta is jealous.

She isn’t sure of who. She misses spending time with Harlan, and continues to suffer through pretending it doesn’t hurt to be polite-but-distant with Ransom. 

Every week her mother keeps asking about “that nice tall man who came for dinner."

When is she going to see him again?

Will he be coming by for dinner? 

Ropa vieja isn’t her best dish, he really should try her fish with escabeche sauce… 

Alice has simply been asking “Donde es tu tremendo mangon???”

She ignores them both, changing the subject as soon as she can.

The worst part, is that Marta feels she has no one to confide in. She doesn’t want to tell her family about the money. Harlan may still change his mind, so she prefers to live her life as if Ransom never told her. And she never confronted Harlan about it.

The day after Ransom told her she wanted to burst into Harlan’s office to confirm that it was true, that he was giving her everything in his will. She wanted to try and get him to reverse it. But she knew if she did that, she would have to explain that it was Ransom who told her. And probably tell him more about Ransom and why they were talking… 

And she could not face that. Not after Harlan warned her about Ransom. She doesn't want him to have been right. She isn't even sure that he was.

Finally, she can’t take it anymore. One afternoon when Ransom has gone home after a full day of working with Harlan on Knives Out, she settles next to Harlan in his study.

“I want you to take me out of your will, Harlan.” she says, straight to the point. “I appreciate what you are trying to do, and I am so glad you want to help me. But it’s too much.”

“So, Ransom told you?” he asks, not missing a beat.

“Yes, he told me. Now take it back. Please do whatever you want, but it shouldn’t go to me. Donate it to charity if you want to help someone, but I don’t want it.” Her fingers pick at the lose end of her sweater.

“Oh Marta, don’t you see that is exactly why it should go to you?” He sets his book aside and takes Marta’s hand.

“You know we will continue to work to get your mother to be a naturalized citizen, but if we can’t you’re going to need that money.” 

Marta’s face drops. It’s just like the plot of the book… but Harlan doesn’t think he’s OD-ing on morphine. It feels like a curse. But she can’t argue that that money would be a great help to her family, especially if Alice gets into med school, or her mother’s immigration status is ever unearthed. 

Harlan squeezes her hand and lets it go. “Why do you think Ransom told you about it? To cause trouble?”

“I thought you weren’t interested in my personal life?” says Marta.

“Oh I never said that. I said I would try to respect your personal life and not pry. But Marta, surely you see that he told you because he cares-“

Marta interrupts, “Why he told me is impossible to know. You think I haven’t thought of all the possibilities? No matter what, he heard I was getting your money, and only _then_ reached out to be my friend. It will always be between us.” She twists her hands together, suddenly getting an idea.

“If you disinherit me... then maybe I would believe him. Will you do that?”

Harlan sighs. “No, I won’t, and I don’t think Ransom would want me to.”

Marta gets up and pulls out the Go board. “Then there is nothing else to say. Let us talk about something else.” 

“Alright,” says Harlan, sitting back in his chair to make room for the game board.

That was too easy. 

“Today is my day, I can feel it. I’ll beat you this time.” he says. 

Marta smiles, though she can’t help but think about Ransom instead of the game. 

“Get ready to feel the pain old man.” 

* * *

The next day Ransom is over to discuss a last-minute change he wants to make to the plot with Harlan (that Detective White sees a tiny drop of blood on Carmilla’s shoe early on, and thus suspected she knew more than she said from the beginning). It’s not a major change, but it requires small details and alterations to some other parts of the text.

Once they come to a good stopping place, Harlan pours them a glass of some insanely expensive brandy and says, “So, you told Marta that she is the sole inheritor in my will.”

Ransom takes a sip, holding back a grimace. He hates brandy. “Yeah.” he says. He’s not going to give Harlan any rope to hang him with.

“And you two had been seeing each other _romantically_ …” The way Harlan says the word romantically grates on Ransom. As if he somehow has guessed the entirely of what happened between him and Marta, when there is no way he has any idea.

Ransom says nothing, taking a large gulp of his drink. Better to just get it down, at least the alcohol may help the awkward conversation Harlan is initiating. Ransom has never brought someone home, or had a conversation with Harlan about anything like this. What could he be thinking?

Harlan presses on, as if Ransom did say something in reply. “And now, she won’t see you because she can’t trust your intentions.”

Again, Ransom has nothing to say. What is his grandfather getting at? Is he asking him if he was after her money? He hoped Harlan knew him better than that now; the last few weeks have brought them closer than they have ever been.

Ransom sighs, working to keep his tone neutral. “What’s your point?”

Harlan sets his own drink down untouched. “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

Ransom laughs, but it’s not a joyful sound. 

He’s been doing his best to move on from the idea of being with Marta. He thought he was doing pretty well, but it’s easy to lie to yourself when nobody is forcing you to address your issues. And now here Harlan is, giving him the third degree.

“There’s nothing _to_ do. She doesn’t want to be with me. And it turns out I’m not the kind of asshole anymore that tries to force what he wants on other people. Especially people I-“ 

Damn the old man. He almost got him. Got him to admit out loud how he feels about Marta.

“I’ve seen her re-reading the manuscript you know…” says Harlan. At that he takes a sip of his brandy, like he’s just turned a great hand in Go.

Ransom swallows. That doesn’t mean anything.

“Yeah well, I originally just asked her to read it because I thought it would stick it to you to have her support it.” There, now he can derail Harlan by talking about what a shit person he is. Was. Whatever.

Unfortunately Harlan doesn’t bat an eye. “But that’s not why you kept going back to her.”

Ransom downs the rest of his drink in one gulp.

“No.”

“You love her.” Harlan says it like a statement of fact, not a question.

_In for a penny…_

“Yes.”

Harlan heaves a great sigh and gets up to stand by Ransom, resting a gnarled, spotted hand on his shoulder.

“So, _tell her_ my boy.”

Ransom rubs his now-empty glass back and forth between his hands. “She deserves better. I’m the villain of the story, remember?”

Harlan squeezes Ransom’s shoulder, “You wrote the story. You’re still writing it.”

Ransom shakes his head, careful not to dislodge Harlan’s hand. It’s warm and firm, and makes him feel like talking about this is okay. Is something he suddenly desperately needs. “It wouldn’t work. She'll always wonder if I was just after the money.”

“That’s true,” says Harlan, and Ransom’s face drops. 

“But there’s a solution to that,” Harlan continues. “If your book sells, and I think it will, I’ll change my will to give you the publishing company, and half the money, and half the house.”

Ransom almost drops the tumbler he’s holding. What the fuck.

He looks up at Harlan, meeting his eye. Fuck that.

“First of all," says Ransom "I don’t actually _want_ your damn money anymore. Keep it. The book _will_ sell. And so will my next book. And the next, and slowly I will earn my equity in Blood Like Wine and no one will have given it to me. Secondly, half the house? That’s stupid, it would just force one of us to buy the other out.”

“Or you could live here together.” says Harlan, his eyes twinkling. 

“Jesus, you’ve gone crazy… I’m seriously going to suggest Marta get you in to see a neurologist. You need your head checked" says Ransom. Maybe the brandy is hitting him harder than he thought, now that he thinks about it, it's been months since he's had a drink. Harlan is talking nonsense. 

“Good idea,” says Harlan, “a change to my will at this age necessitates I prove mental competency. I’d be glad to see someone and get checked out.”

He’s grinning now, and Ransom has the sinking feeling he gets when Harlan occasionally manages to beat him at Go.

They sit in silence for a while before Ransom finally speaks.

“Don’t change it yet. Let me, let me see if this book was a one-off or if I have more in me. Let me earn it.” 

“I have no doubt you will. ”Harlan says, eyes wet.

Ransom has to look away from him. 

* * *

Marta clutches the compression socks tightly, and moves away from the cracked door of the study. 

She didn’t mean to eves drop… that’s a lie she thinks, as her stomach gurgles. She was _desperate_ to eves drop. To hear more than five words from Ransom at once. To get some clue of what is going on with him (even though she knows it’s her own fault she’s been avoiding him).

She can barely think straight, trying hard to recover from all she has heard.

_You love her._

_Yes._

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marta and Ransom, together at last!

Marta is losing it.

She can’t believe what she’s heard. Of course, she knew Ransom liked her, at least a little. Even if he  _ was _ after the money, he’s not  _ that _ good of an actor… but… she can’t think. All she wants to do it go home, lay her head in her mother’s lap, and cover herself with a blanket.

She tried so hard to get Harlan to change the will. She asked over and over, but he wouldn’t. And suddenly he is planning to change it to include Ransom? Which removes the only real roadblock to them being together: the possibility that Ransom was only interested in her to gain his grandfather’s inheritance. Harlan… may be a better strategist than she has given him credit for. Is it possible he has been letting _her_ win at Go all this time?

As she silently moves down the hall her heart screams at her to go back in there and tell Ransom she feels the same way. But she continues to move away into the belly of the house as she gathers her thoughts. She is at work. She doesn’t want to do anything here. She’s not even sure what she  _ should _ do. She needs more time to think. 

For the rest of the day she is so distracted that Fran notices and asks if she is okay. 

“I’m fine” she says, and then hurries to the bathroom to throw up as quietly as she can. It’s a lie. She’s not fine. 

She really thought at one point she would wear Harlan down. That she would be able to change his mind. But now that the will is going to be split between her and Ransom, she has the feeling that nothing she can do will change Harlan’s mind now.

When Marta gets home, she cannot handle keeping things to herself any longer. Her mother is relaxing in front of the television, which Marta abruptly turns off. She does exactly what she has wanted to do all afternoon at work. She lays down, pulls a blanket over herself, and cries into her mother’s lap. She can’t stop it. Her situation feels so foolish and so impossible to explain.

But her mother doesn’t ask for an explanation; she just slowly rubs her back. Marta has been this way since she was a child. She doesn’t complain. She doesn’t let anything phase her. But eventually, she has a breaking point. When that happens she needs a good cry (or sometimes an angry pout), and once she’s had enough time she will talk to her mother.

It only takes a few minutes for her to start talking, but her story goes on for almost half an hour.

“… and then today I overheard Ransom and Harlan talking, and Harlan said he has decided to give Ransom half of everything in his will, and then asked him if he loved me! And Ransom said yes, and I just don’t know what to do. I feel like there’s only one answer. To be with Ransom… but is that a mistake? How can I ever really know what Ransom’s motives are?”

Her mother strokes her hair. “Oh mija, welcome to being in love.”

Marta bristles at that. She didn’t say she loved him… not even to herself. She's never felt so twisted up.

“Even if I do love him, how can I be sure this is right? How can I be sure he really feels the same?” she asks.

Her mother laughs. “Marta, no one is ever sure. That’s the risk you take." She continues to trace her fingers over Marta's hair. 

"When I met your father, my family was much better off than his. He worked hard every day, but my father did  _ not _ want us to be together. He wanted me to find someone of a higher status. Someone who had more than our own family, who could elevate us. I asked my father, how was that any different than what he was accusing your father of doing?” Marta snuggles into her mother’s lap. She usually only talks about her and Alice’s father on holidays. 

“As you know, we didn’t listen. We got married, moved to America, had you and your sister. We had eighteen wonderful years together before he passed... and now that he is no longer with us, I miss him every day. So if there is one piece of advice I can give you, it’s don’t waste time if you’ve found someone you  _ want _ , Marta.”

Marta is crying again. Mainly happy tears this time. She sits up and hugs her mother.

“I have to go.” she says. 

Her mother nods, eyes shining. Her daughter finally in love. “Text me if you are staying with him for the night, mija!”

Marta blushes. “Ah, mama leave it!” she shouts as she runs to her room to take a quick look in the mirror. Her eyes are wet but not too red. She puts on her favorite sweater and brushes her hair. 

Good enough, she does not want to waste any more time. 

“I’m serious Marta, let me know so I don’t worry!” says her mother.

Marta’s face heats, her mother has never in her whole life just casually mentioned she wants to know if she is staying the night with a man. “Alright, alright, I’ll let you know when I’m there safe, and if I plan to stay, but that’s it!”

“Aye, I am just being realistic, I know how it is for young people now. You think I believed all those “best friend sleepovers” Alice was having earlier this year when she was seeing that boy she didn’t think I knew about?” Her mother looks smug now… and Marta doesn’t blame her, Alice definitely thought she got away with that.

Marta kisses her mother on the cheek and grabs her keys “I will see you later.”

“Buena suerte!” her mother calls after her, but she is already out the door.

* * *

Marta drives, trying her best to calm her breathing. Of course she can never really know Ransom’s motivations. It’s still possible he reached out to her in the first place to trick her into a relationship. But in her heart Marta knows that isn’t the case.

She drives to Ransom’s house and gets more and more nervous. But she hears it over and over in her head, giving her confidence.

_ You love her _

_ Yes _

Finally, she arrives. It’s only a twenty-minute drive from her house, even though Ransom lives in the country. He lives fairly close to Harlan’s manor, just another ten minutes and she would be back at work.

She rings the bell, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She should have just text him to meet up somewhere. The Flat Penny again maybe. Instead she is showing up at 8 pm, to his home, like some sort of crazy person.

“What was I thinking?” she mutters to herself. It just felt so urgent after talking to her mother. The door opens, and there is Ransom.

His hair is wet. He is only wearing a towel. Oh.

He looks as surprised as Marta (of course he does, he has no idea she was coming). He grips the edge of the towel where it’s clinging to his hip and says “You’re here.” 

Marta can’t focus. She was expecting yet another chunky knit sweater. There isn’t enough processing power in her brain right now to compute Ransom’s wet abs.

She responds without thinking, “You’re… in a towel.” 

She swallows, raking her eyes over him. Eyes up, eyes up. This is so embarrassing. 

Ransom lets out a surprised laugh.

All of Marta’s fear drains away as she sees how absolutely happy Ransom looks to see her.

“Come in, I was just expecting my Thai delivery, but it was early so I rushed out of the shower.” 

He brings his hand up to rub the back of his neck, which causes several droplets to rush down over his pecks, down, down until they hit the fluffy white towel at his waist. He steps aside, obviously making room for her to come in.

She steps inside and looks around, though the whole house seems to be made of glass, so she had some idea of what it would look like as soon as she pulled up. It’s very clean and beautiful. White leather and sleek wood. She knows she should say something, but between Ransom’s beautiful wet body and his modern home she feels like she is in a dream.

Ransom seems to find her dazed state endearing and leads the conversation. “That food should be here in a few minutes, I actually ordered extra, do you want some?”

Marta’s stomach grumbles at the offer. In her angst over what she heard, then her talk with her mother and finally the rush to get here, she didn’t eat dinner. 

She quickly grabs her stomach, embarrassed. “I, yes thank you I have not eaten.”

He smiles and steers her toward the white leather sofa in the living area. “I’m going to go put some clothes on, I’ll be right back.”

Marta tamps down the urge to tell him he doesn’t need to put clothes on. Jesus, she needs to focus. She thought about what she wanted to say on the drive... What was it? 

Before she can fully prepare Ransom is back. He’s barefoot but has on a soft-looking pair of jeans and an even softer-looking long-sleeved blue shirt. The long miles of skin are totally covered, which makes it easier for Marta to focus, but feels like a significant loss. He sits on the sofa next to her.

“So, you’re here.” He begins again. His eyes are bright and he still looks so happy, like he would when they were talking about the book. Marta feels a pang in her heart that it’s been so many weeks since she has seen him like this. 

“Yes, I – came to talk to you.” she says. 

Ransom nods, like it isn’t a strange thing for Marta suddenly just show up at his house. But then he asks, voice curious, “How do you know where I live?”

Marta blushes. “Harlan has a rolodex… he has me look in it often to find a name or address he doesn’t remember. All of the family are in it at the very beginning.” She shrugs apologetically, realizing that may come off as intrusive. “Over the last few weeks I thought about coming here. To talk to you… I probably should have just text you…” Marta can feel her face and neck get hot.

“No, I’m glad you’re here” says Ransom, holding out a hand to her. Not grabbing her hand, but holding it out. There if she wants to take it.

Marta grabs it like a lifeline, mind traveling back to their initial discussion of the book on the deck. His hand is so large, so warm. Marta doesn’t want to wait anymore.

She takes a deep breath, ready to just launch into it, before she can over-think it.

“I wanted to-“

_ Ding _

An electronic chime goes off and Ransom’s eyes move automatically to the door. “Shit, sorry that’s the food.” He squeezes her hand briefly before letting it go to answer the door.

Marta melts back into the sofa. He stomach grumbles again, and she thinks maybe it would be better to talk about everything after she’s eaten.

Ransom pays and shuts the door, holding a bag with three large take-out containers, and another with what looks like a soup. Marta stands to join him as he moves the food into the kitchen. 

“You really did order extra” she notes.

Ransom’s mouth pulls to the side before he replies “Yeah, I always order enough for like three meals. It’s even better the next day, and they have these family meals that are a really good deal…” he looks embarrassed. Marta supposes he hasn’t really had to think much about what the best deal is, or making leftovers stretch in the past. It shouldn’t be, but Marta finds it kind of adorable. She pictures Ransom bent over a spreadsheet, budgeting out his meals. Such a contrast to only a few months ago.

“That’s very economical of you” she teases, “but I heard somewhere that you actually just signed a very impressive book deal.” She grins, they haven’t talked about it at all, but she learned the basics from Harlan. 

As soon as she asked for details though Harlan would only say “That’s a confidential matter between Blood Like Wine and our newest writer; I’m afraid to reveal anything more would be a breach of contract.”

Breach of contract. Harlan really has been a pill lately. But Marta knows it was his sneaky way to get her to talk to Ransom. 

They sit down at the kitchen table with the food, and before she knows it the food is gone, and Ransom has given her a blow by blow account of the last couple of months. “I can’t wait to read the final draft!” she says, pushing her plate away.

“It’s almost there, I can put it on a flash drive if you want.” says Ransom.

Marta shakes her head. “No, I don’t want to read it again until I can go into a store and buy a copy.” 

“You know that’s still six months out, right?” says Ransom. “Three if we really push. There’s still the final review, cover design, print production…”

“I don’t care, I want the next time I read it for it to be a real book in my hands” she says.

Ransom raises an eyebrow, “Yeah I’ve heard you’ve basically worn out the manuscript copy.” His teasing is edged with the same pure joy he’s been exuding from the moment Marta arrived. 

“Has Harlan been telling you things about  _ me _ ? That old traitor, he has refused to tell me anything about you!” Marta is so indignant she doesn’t really realize what she’s said.

“You’ve been asking Harlan about me?” Ransom asks, voice hopeful.

“Yes well, of course I wanted to know how you were doing… what’s been happening with the book.” Marta stands, gathering the container they emptied and organizing the dishes to take to the sink. 

Ransom takes the plates from her hands and waives her off when she tries to clean up. “I’ve got this.” he says.

Rather than stand awkwardly in the kitchen while Ransom cleans up, she returns to the living room and sits on the sofa. There is no more putting it off, time to tell Ransom how she feels. 

After a few minutes Ransom joins her. She holds out her hand, mirroring his earlier offer. He looks nervous now, almost like he did that first day he came to talk to her. His hand wraps around hers and she feels calm, like she’s about to start something she has been waiting for her whole life.

“I didn’t come here tonight just to hear about the book. I came because, because I needed to tell you that I don’t care that you knew about the money. It doesn’t matter how we ended up becoming friends, because we did, and I know it was real.”

“We  _ are _ friends.” he says, looking pleased, but resigned. 

Marta squeezes his hand. “I also wanted to tell you that I want to be _more_ than friends. That I… that I love you, and want to be with you.” 

Her heart is hammering. Somehow hearing Ransom say it while eves dropping seems meaningless. What if she misunderstood? What if he just felt pressured by Harlan? What if he doesn’t actually feel the same?

He scoops her up, pulling her to him on the sofa so that her legs are pulled over his. She’s almost in his lap, wrapped up in his arms, just being held tight. She moves to pull her own arms around him, and they just stay like that for several moments, Ransom’s face buried in her neck.

“Are you sure?” he asks, head still bowed, face nestled against her. Like he can’t bare to look at her if she says no. 

Marta pulls away a bit so they can look at each other. “Well, I can’t lie, can I? And I just ate a big dinner...” 

Ransom laughs and cradles her head in his hands, leaning in to kiss her soundly. 

“I love you. And you love me.” he says.

“Yes” she responds. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I thought this would be the last chapter, but I will be adding an epilogue so we see how the family reacts to Ransom's success! And possibly a sex scene chapter haha!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex. That's the whole summary.

They make out like teenagers on the sofa for so long that Ransom’s lips start to feel tender. Marta has migrated to his lap, her legs on either side of him. He rubs his hands up and down her hips and thighs, vaguely realizing that her sneakers are resting on the edge of the sofa on either side of his knees. Six months ago, he would have lost his mind if someone put their shoes on his sofa, even just the tops like Marta’s are now. He pulls away to huff a laugh. If Marta wanted to jump up and down on the sleek white leather with muddy boots he wouldn’t give a shit. 

He’s hard, and has been since they started, but he doesn’t want to pressure Marta to do anything she isn’t ready for. Marta seems so innocent, and he knows her mother is religious. Fuck, he hopes she isn’t waiting for marriage.

Jesus fuck, he would wait though. Wait, does he _want to marry her?_

Ransom is starting to panic now. He is fully at home in the idea he loves Marta. He’s over-fucking-joyed she feels the same way. But what the fuck? He’s never considered marrying her, or anyone. 

Marta seems to notice he is having some sort of internal conflict. She slides further down into his lap, spreading her legs and lowering herself so they are grinding together. 

“Take me to bed, Ransom.” she says. 

And who the fuck knows what he was thinking that had him so worried, because if he has a chance to hear _that_ for the rest of his life, he’s taking it.

Ransom picks her up in one smooth movement, carefully maneuvering around the glass coffee table and carries her upstairs. 

* * *

Ransom doesn’t seem to be moving things along, but he looks conflicted. Marta decides to make her intentions clear.

“Take me to bed, Ransom.” she blushes a little. Usually she isn’t very forward but based on how Ransom has treated her this whole time, she thinks he is probably hesitant to push or seem like all he is after is sex. And that’s very gentlemanly, but Marta has wanted to rip his clothes (or rather, towel) off since the moment she saw him tonight.

He carries her like she weighs nothing, up the modern-looking staircase, and into the large loft bedroom. Like the rest of the house it is sparsely decorated. There is a huge bed in the center of the main wall, fluffy and white. It looks like a cloud. Marta thinks that illusion would be complete in the daytime since the bedroom is on the second floor surrounded by the ceiling-high windows. 

Ransom sets her down on the edge of the bed, which is high enough that her feet don’t touch the ground. He then pulls off his shirt, pants and underwear before kneeling in front of her.

Marta can’t speak. She may never speak again, the image in front of her is dumbfounding. Ransom naked. Ransom on his knees.

Ransom kneels there, errection poking up against his stomach, and he just waits.

Marta isn’t sure what she is supposed to do here. She’s still fully clothed, down to her sneakers. On instinct she holds out a foot, resting it on his muscular thigh. He moves immediately to begin taking the shoe off. His movements are deliberate, loosening the laces and sliding the shoe off and setting it aside. He removes her sock, massaging her foot, then slowly bends to kiss the top of the arch.

Marta’s face flushes, she is fleetingly worried that her feet stink, but as Ransom takes her other foot and does the same thing, all she can think is one thing.

_He’s worshiping me_

Next he slides his hands from her feet up her calves and around to her inner thighs, rubbing through her pants with a firm pressure. It feels like a trail of heat ignites along the path his hands travel. They go up, up, converging at her groin, brushing against her, causing her blood to rush.

Ransom's hands reach the button and zipper. He’s so tall that he doesn’t need to get out of his kneeling position to run his hands around to the back edge of her pants and pull them down. Marta lifts her hips a bit to help them off.

His hands slide further, up under her sweater, smoothing over her belly and up her ribs. Ransom doesn’t touch her breasts, sliding his arms around her back to deftly unclasp her bra. Marta briefly wonders at how he was able to release the hooks so quickly at such an awkward angle, but then her shirt sweater and bra are lifting over her head. She’s totally naked now, just like Ransom. She’s eager to feel his skin on hers, but he drops back down to his knees in front of her. 

He takes one of her knees in each of his large hands, mirroring his earlier movement, kissing one, then the other. Her knee jerks, her patellar reflex going off as a result of the kiss. She laughs, and Ransom smiles a soft smile before slowly parting her knees. Marta gasps, and he glances up to make sure she’s alright. 

Ransom is spreading her open, the height of the bed means his head is at just the right height to… 

“This okay?” he asks, resting his head for a moment on her warm thigh.

Marta swallows, and nods. 

Ransom slowly moves her knees apart a bit more, until her legs are in a wide v-shape. He goes back to his slow worship, starting at her knee and kissing up one thigh, then the other. Marta can’t take much more, she’s about to grab his head and pull him to her when he reaches up and presses on the area where her back meets her ass to urge her forward. She’s right on the edge of the bed now, legs spread.

Ransom slides forward to meet her.

Marta lets out an embarrassing noise as his mouth finally connects with her labia. He presses those same gentle kisses against her, just exploring and taking his time. His hands grasp her thighs, holding them tight as he moves on to licking, sucking. She can’t hold back anymore, and grabs Ransom’s hair with both hands, straining toward him. She doesn’t mean to pull hard, but when he starts relentless tonguing her clit she can’t help it, swearing in Spanish and yanking large handfuls of hair.

Ransom moans, leaning into her hands while continuing to work on her, not letting up until Marta’s cries become desperate. Suddenly she is coming, her whole body tensing then shuddering. Ransom slows his licks to carry her through the last of her orgasm. 

Marta wordlessly flops back on the bed, vaguely noticing that Ransom has stood and is opening a drawer to her left. 

She turns to look when she hears the crinkling of a wrapper. Ransom is holding up a condom. “I figured… it’s been a while since I’ve been tested. I’m sure I’m fine but…”

The nurse in Marta is please that Ransom is so responsible. She nods, “We can go together” she says, reaching out a hand to encourage him to come back to her on the bed.

He clambers up, and Marta plucks the condom from him and takes him in hand, rolling it down. He’s bigger than anyone she’s been with before, but at this point she is so turned on she doesn’t think there will be any problems.

She keeps a firm grasp on him and gently leads him toward her, “I can’t wait any longer Ransom, please.” 

Slow, gentle Ransom disappears, and Marta is lifted and laid out below him in a single movement. His kisses her, his tongue sliding into her mouth at the exact same time his cock slides into her tight heat. She feels totally possessed, taken, as his tongue slides past hers and his hips thrust eagerly. 

Marta grabs his hair again, pulling her mouth away from his to moan. He takes that opportunity to kiss and fondle her breasts, licking and sucking at her nipples as he continues to slide in and out of her, the pressure and heat building.

“Your mouth, Ransom, so perfect” she sighs, combing her hands through his hair more gently now.

Ransom lets out a quiet moan, and Marta can actually feel the heat radiating off of his face. She tilts his head up to look at her, and he’s totally wrecked. His mouth is shining and his face is flushed with arousal and something else. 

“You’re perfect, Ransom” she says. He closes his eyes, burying his face in her neck. She’s noticed it from the very beginning. Ransom doesn’t know what to do with genuine praise. She tilts her mouth to align with his ear, as his head buries even deeper into the area between her head and shoulder. Trying to escape. 

“I can’t believe how good you are. You make me so happy.” she says. 

Ransom’s groan is loud, even though he does his best to muffle it. Marta wants to look at him. She doesn’t want him to hide. She runs her hands over his strong shoulders, slowly bringing them up his neck to either side of his face. 

She can tell he doesn’t want to look at her, but he does when she gently guides him to look her in the eye. Their faces just a few inches apart. He leans in to kiss her, but she holds him there as he continues to thrust slowly, just rolling his hips.

She smiles at him and can see his eyes are wet, but he doesn’t look away.

“You’re so strong. I’m so proud of you.” she says.

His eyes close, and two tear drops fall onto Marta’s collar bone. She reaches up to wipe the tear tracks away. 

“I love you” she says, and Ransom comes.

* * *

Ten minutes later they are cleaned up and cuddling in Ransom’s cloud of a bed. They haven’t said much, there isn’t a need. Eventually Marta breaks the comfortable quiet. 

“So, we could have been doing that for months?” she asks. Ransom nods, sleep quickly taking him.

“We’re idiots.” whispers Marta.

Ransom buries his nose in her hair, and laughs.

* * *

The next morning Marta needs to leave early to go home and change before heading to the manor for her work day.

“If you want you could stop by here on your way to Harlan’s” Ransom says, working to sound casual. “Then we could drive up together, I could spend the day with Harlan and you could come back here for dinner?” 

“That sounds great,” she says, noting how Ransom’s shoulders sag with relief.

He seems to be waiting for her to tell him she’s changed her mind or something… Marta resolves to shower Ransom with even more compliments.

“You should come over and have dinner with my mother and Alice again soon. They have not stopped bothering me, asking when they will see you again. I think they like you more than me” she teases.

Ransom blushes and tells her he’s free any night that works for them. Her mother will be pleased.

They drive to Harlan’s together, going over the latest plans for the finalization of the book. They are talking animatedly as they walk up to the house too distracted by their conversation to notice they are holding hands. 

Fran opens the door, and sees their clasped hands. 

“Harlan!” Fran yells into the house, “You were right!”

Harlan’s smug, gleeful face pops out from his office. 

Ransom holds up a hand before he can say anything, “No one likes a gloater, old man.” 

Harlan coughs and straightens his smoking jacket, stepping out into the foyer. “I don’t know what you mean, I have nothing to gloat about. Indeed, it’s not as if I could have timed it so perfectly that you confessed your love at the exact moment Marta comes upstairs every other afternoon to try and get me to wear those damn compression socks.” 

His eyes are bright and he looks about ten years younger.

Ransom kisses Marta on the cheek and pulls an arm around Harlan, steering him back toward the office. “Have you heard anything back on the final copy edit?” 

Fran turns to Marta. “Details! Now!”

Ransom looks back at Marta and rolls his eyes at Fran and Harlan, but he’s smiling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to everyone expecting the "Ransom's family finds out about the book" chapter! This was going to be a quick scene with that to follow, but here we are haha! That is still coming along with an epilogue.


	10. Chapter 10 & Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family learns about the book, and the story comes to a close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read and supported this story!!!

A month later Harlan invites everyone to a dinner at the manor with the intention of announcing Ransom’s book and celebrating him joining Blood Like Wine Publishing. 

Apart from Ransom and Marta none of them know why they are coming, though there is much speculation. Harlan rarely gathers them all together outside of official holidays. Each Thrombey and Drysdale is hoping that Harlan is reversing his decision to cut them off. Or perhaps announcing his retirement (and along with it a windfall for each of them).

Over the past six months most of them have experienced hardship and upheaval. 

Walt was officially put on “leave” from Blood Like Wine Publishing after Harlan’s 85 th birthday party. Harlan informed him that he would receive his benefits and salary for two more months, but at that point he needed to “follow his passion and find professional fulfillment elsewhere, in an environment he can truly thrive.” In other words, he was fired. A gentle, fatherly firing that Harlan hoped would allow Walt to find a place in the world on his own. 

Walt spent the first month pouting at home, telling anyone who would listen (so, just Donna) how unfair his father was being, how ungrateful for all he had done for the company. 

After a month and several attempts to change Harlan’s mind, Walt realized he was serious. Lacking any actual career aspirations, he decided to pursue a president or vice president role at a rival publisher. He had no experience in any other industry, and figured he could at least capitalize on working at Blood Like Wine for the last thirty years. 

It turns out the roles of president or VP are difficult to come by at major publishing houses. He is turned away over and over, but with his long tenure at Blood Like Wine on his resume he is able to get a Junior Account Executive position at a middling publisher. It is one fifth of the pay and about twenty times the work he is used to.

Needless to say, Walt is hoping Harlan is retiring and offering him his place back. 

Linda and Richard are in the middle of a messy divorce. After Richard refused to tell Linda about his affair, Harlan mailed her their secret communication and all hell broke loose. Linda is hoping to bend Harlan’s ear to cut Richard out of family gatherings all together, Richard is hoping to convince Harlan he has reformed. With any luck Harlan will help him convince Linda to give him another chance.

Meg got the heads up from Ransom that Harlan wasn’t covering her school after the current semester due to her mother’s embezzlement (Joni of course told her nothing). Marta advised Meg to keep quiet, and a month after the party convinced Harlan to give Meg a few more semesters of tuition. Meg just wants to thank Harlan.

After being cut off Joni made vicious staffing cuts at Flam, and as a result the company will break even this quarter without Harlan’s support (i.e. her continued embezzlement). She is feeling proud of herself, though she is not forward-thinking enough to realize the staff cuts will not save her company long-term.

Wanetta’s life has remained unchanged. 

* * *

They are all seated at the grand dinner table. Ransom is on Harlan’s left and Harlan askes Marta to sit on his right. Linda huffs at that.

“Oh Linda,” Harlan says, “Surely you know Marta is like family!”

Linda rolls her eyes and sits next to Ransom. She pats his hand. At least Harlan is back to favoring her son; she thinks of it as further proof that she is his favorite child. She smugly glances down the table at Walt, Donna and Jacob, who are sitting on the other side down from Marta. Meg is next to Linda, with Joni next to her. Richard hovers around the table not sure where to sit. In the past he would have always sat by Linda, but he finally settles on sitting next to Joni, and tries to avoid eye contact with everyone.

Harlan clinks the edge of his glass with his knife after the catering company places everyone’s plates in front of them.

“Thank you for taking the time to come to this gathering. I wanted you all here together to announce some exciting news.”

The group (apart from Marta and Ransom) take a collective breath.

Harlan pauses, tilting his head. “Actually, Ransom my boy, this is more your announcement than mine, please do the honors.” He waives a hand regally toward Ransom.

Everyone at the table turns to Ransom, his father having to crane his neck to see past the rest of the table’s occupants.

Ransom clears his throat. Damn the old man, couldn’t he have given him some warning? It’s strange, he fantasized endlessly in the early days of drafting the book of this moment. When he would announce his success and revel in his family’s shock and jealousy. But now it just seems exhausting, he doesn’t even want to bother.

He looks up at Marta and she’s beaming at him. Oh. Well that’s pretty nice. He gathers himself and takes a deep breath.

“Ever since granddad’s birthday party I realized that I needed to get my life on track. Like the rest of you, he cut me off.”

Titters and gasps come from around the table. No doubt everyone had been trying to keep their fate from that evening from everyone else in the family.

“So, I decided to write a book. It’s a murder mystery that’s based on our own lives to an extent. Harlan is the murder victim.” Ransom laughs. It seems so absurd still when he describes it out loud.

Walt snorts, turning to Harlan with a triumphant gleam in his eye. “And what do you think of that? Your favorite grandchild murdering you in print!” He cackles, turning his attention to Ransom, “Good luck finding a publisher!” 

Ransom can see Marta’s eyes narrowing at Walt. Harlan begins to respond, but Ransom wants to defend himself. He didn’t think he wanted to stick it to his family anymore, but Walt has set himself up too perfectly.

“Actually Walt,” he says, swirly his half-empty wine glass, “I had four offers from major publishers once they had a chance to read the completed manuscript.”

The color drains from Walt’s face. “It’s completely written, you say? Well I’m sure you got pretty pathetic offers since you’re a first-time writer” he says, voice dripping with distain. “I can tell you no first-time author gets a decent shake, unless of course you used Harlan’s good name and reputation to leverage a better deal!” Walt shakes his head in disgust, as if he and his family have not been living off of Harlan like a tick on a dog for the last forty years.

No one else at the table has said anything, hanging on the back and forth between Walt and Ransom.

Ransom takes a sip of his wine. “Well I submitted under a pen name to avoid that very conflict, Walt. And although a couple of the offers were very competitive, I decided I should at least give Blood Like Wine the option to throw their hat in the ring, as a familial courtesy.” He’s grinning now.

Walt’s expression turns horror-struck, realizing what’s happened.

Harlan jumps in now, “And thank goodness he did! Blood Like Wine has made an offer to publish Ransom’s book, though we had to get rather aggressive in order to lure him away from his already generous offers…” Harlan’s grin matches Ransom’s. 

Walt stands up and storms out, yelling over his shoulder about conspiracies and collusion. Donna and Jacob look conflicted. Rather than follow Walt, Donna reads the room and sees that Harlan is backing Ransom and the best option is to fall in line. “Congratulations, Ransom” she says tightly, elbowing Jacob to do the same.

Meg leans over Linda to hold a hand out in a high-five motion to Ransom “Congrats Ransom, I totally want to read it when it comes out!” 

Ransom smacks her hand in front of Linda’s face competing the high five; he’s happy that at least someone in the family seems genuinely interested. Ransom has been working to improve his relationship with Meg over the last few months. They text every couple of weeks and Marta is in contact with her even more. Ransom is beginning to feel a little guilty about how her character is portrayed in the book, but writes it off as artistic license. If he changed it now it wouldn’t be true to his vision. 

A high-five popping off in Linda’s face seems to shock her out of her stunned silence. She loudly proclaims “I always knew you had the writing gene! Inherited right from your grandfather, of course your entrepreneurial spirit comes from me. It took you a little longer of course, I started my real estate empire at just twenty-eight…” 

Ransom rolls his eyes but doesn’t take the bait. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for Richard.

“Well it sounds like  _ Ransom _ actually earned his deal with Blood Like Wine, unlike you, who just took a million dollar “loan” from your daddy and never paid it back!” Richard has had three glasses of wine, and has totally lost his grasp on his plan to try and win Linda back. Now he just wants to win, which means hurting Linda however he can. 

Linda rears back from the table to address Richard, “At least I  _ did _ something; you’ve just been a  _ kept man _ for decades-“

They get up from the table to squabble, leaving Joni the opportunity to finally weigh in.

“I am just so impressed!” she says, resting a hand on her chest (which is covered by some kind of hand-woven silk poncho). “This is such a fun coincidence, because I’m  _ also _ writing a book!” She pauses here, waiting for some to ask her about it. 

No one does, so she presses on. “It’s called Full Force Flam.” Her hands pop in the air with every alliterative word. 

Marta takes pity on her and asks, “How much have you written?”

Joni shrugs her shoulder and gathers her hair. “Well it’s just such a challenge balancing everything. Running a company, managing my skin care routine, being a  _ mom _ and writing… I have about half a chapter so far…” She tilts her head, as if envisioning the content above all of their heads. “Well, it’s not really a  _ chapter _ so much as a series of tweets? But there is a ton of content on my socials that is just ripe for adaptation!”

She flips her hair in what she imagines is an elegant way. “Maybe Blood Like Wine should publish my book too?” 

Everyone turns to Harlan. He dabs his mouth with his napkin. “I would certainly be interested in seeing some sample chapters Joni. Why don’t you prepare those and send them to me. Hmm we don’t need much to get an idea, how about ten thousand words? That will do it.”

Joni’s hopeful smile slips off her face. “I- of course. I’m totally able to draft a quick ten-k, for sure.”

“Splendid,” says Harlan. At that he rises and moves to the living room where they will all take coffee and dessert. 

Jacob is even quieter than usual. Before he would spend entire family gatherings on his phone engrossed in alt-right message boards, occasionally interjecting to egg Meg on. Tonight he has just been eating his dinner (and now his tort) quietly. Donna explains that Jacob has had to enroll in the local public school, which “is full of little monsters trying to assault Jacob for no reason.” 

The family trades looks. It’s entirely obvious to each of them why the general population of a public school would want to bash Jacob’s face in, given his extreme views. It looks like Richard is about to go there, but Ransom cuts him off.

He turns to Jacob, “That sucks, starting at a new school isn’t easy.” Meg rolls her eyes but doesn’t interject about him deserving it like she usually would, taking her cues from Ransom. 

Jacob shrugs, “It was just a bloody nose.” He is blushing, and Marta wonders if being transferred to public school wasn’t the best thing that could have happened to him. Hearing he is an asshole from his peers is probably the fastest way for him to pull himself together. 

Donna sighs in a long-suffering way. “Walt wanted to press charges, but it turns out Jacob can’t actually identify the kid that did it.” She catches Harlan’s eye “If only we had the money for private school.”

Here Jacob speaks up, “Actually I like it there, there’s a robotics club and we don’t have to wear uniforms.” Donna looks ready to spit fire, but Harlan smiles and praises Jacob’s involvement with the club and asks him a question about it, shutting her up.

Toward the end of dessert Ransom’s father corners him to ask for a loan. 

“It wouldn’t be much, ten grand, max. Your mother has frozen the accounts and I just need a little something to tide me over...” 

Ransom is saved from answering by Walt swanning back in. He takes Donna’s tort from her (which admittedly she has not touched) and digs in as if he didn’t storm out of dinner an hour ago. 

Marta looks as Ransom with a raised eyebrow, but he just shrugs. It would be uncharacteristic of Walt to have already gotten over everything, but if anyone knows that people change it’s him. 

Once Harlan is engrossed in conversation with Meg (who is discussing with him changing her major to something more practical), Walt slides up to Ransom and says in a lowered voice, “I’ve got a counter offer for you from my publisher. I had to really go out on a limb, but I know Harlan will never let you turn the book into a movie, and that’s where the real money is. Come over to us and you’ll have full creative control.”

Ransom considers shooting Walt down again, but smiles slyly and just tells him “Sure, email the offer to me and I’ll consider it.”

Walt grins like the cat that ate the canary and moves away from Ransom after hitting him on the shoulder in commiseration. 

Marta who was near enough to hear the exchange asks, “Why did you say you would think about it, when Blood Like Wine is already offering movie and tv adaptations  _ and _ partial ownership?”

Ransom grins and says, “I want to have some fun stringing Walt along.” 

Marta laughs, “I guess there is still a little bit of asshole left in you.”

Ransom leans closer, “Is it really being an asshole if the person you are torturing is an asshole?”

Marta considers and replies, “Yes. But, Walt is obnoxious and deserves it…” she snorts a laugh of her own before becoming serious. “How can you stand it, Ransom? I always knew they were self-serving, but their reactions to your amazing accomplishment have made me want to strangle them!”

Ransom smiles, realizing why he’s been so relaxed all evening. Why his family’s barbs seem to roll off of him now. “It’s easy to ignore them, now that I’m with you.”

Marta forgets herself, quickly kissing Ransom on the lips.

“Holy shit!” says Joni, drawing everyone’s attention to them. 

Marta pulls away, but she isn’t fast enough. Everyone reacts at once, creating a wall of noise. Everyone is yelling something, from Linda’s frantic wails that Marta is a gold-digger, to Meg’s excited squeal of delight. It’s almost an hour before everyone is calmed down. Finally they have all been marginally convinced that Ransom and Marta are in fact in love, that no-one is taking advantage of anyone, and that it’s none of their business.

Linda and Walt both still seem disgruntled, but Harlan closes the gathering with a final statement:

“Thank you, family, for gathering to celebrate this exciting news for Blood Like Wine Publishing and Ransom. And congratulations to Ransom and Marta, I am so glad you two have found each other.” He glances at them with genuine fondness. “I’m sure the entire family will show you nothing but support. Indeed, if they don’t, they certainly won’t be welcome back here.” His stern glare is enough to silence any and all decenters. From that point the family does their best to support Marta and Ransom (or pretend to when Harlan is around at least). 

* * *

_ Epilogue – One year later _

The Knives Out movie premiere is a hectic and heady affair. The whole family is invited, and to Ransom’s surprise everyone turns up.

Marta thinks Ransom looks exactly like the Captain America actor who plays his character. Ransom doesn’t see it.

Walt comes up to him after the film. “I’m telling you, we could have gotten you a better deal on the back end. Call me when you’re ready to upgrade.” He hands Ransom his card, noting his mid-level position at the latest mid-level publishing company he’s bounced to. 

Marta rolls her eyes “I can’t believe he’s still trying”

Ransom shrugs pocketing the card. He really does enjoy toying with him. 

Fran also attends the premier, along with her husband who is in remission. She comes up and hugs Ransom, which surprises the rest of the family. When the book came out Ransom sent a signed copy home with Fran one day for her husband to read while getting his radiation treatments. Ransom doesn’t know what the big deal was, he had about 100 extra copies laying around… Fran spent the next week telling Marta how much her husband enjoyed telling the doctors and other patients that his wife is a character in the book, and she dies! 

Meg is excited for Ransom, and is significantly chastened when she sees her on-screen counterpart (“I can’t believe I used to be like that!” she says). When Harlan restricted how much longer she could be in school, she discussed her desire to switch majors to psychology. She has just started her masters, and plans to become a family counselor. 

Joni tries to hog all the press by talking about Flam. She never wrote her book. She did write several tweets about it though. 

Richard and Linda arrive separately (their divorce is still not finalized). Richard claps Ransom on the back and says “Well done! Though I think they got a few things wrong with my character, what are the chances of it getting re-cut for the wide release?”

Linda simply smiles and looks smug. She’s found this to be the safest course of action over the last year. 

Jacob's public-school career is going well. He is dating a Chinese foreign exchange student he met in robotics club. 

Nana Wanetta is still alive. She walks up to Marta after it’s over and tells her, “Ransom… I loved the film!” 

Alice and Marta’s mom are on cloud nine. Alice begins streaming the whole event and posting about it on social media, but when she sees Joni doing almost the exact same thing (looking ridiculous), she puts her phone away and enjoys the night. Earlier that year they were able to resolve Marta’s mother’s immigration status with the US government. Her mother cooked enough food for an army and Marta and Ransom froze enough leftovers to last them months.

Harlan absolutely loves the film. He waits until Walt is in ear-shot to tell Ransom: “My boy, you’ve convinced me, I think I’d like to adapt some of his own works on the big screen!” 

Walt loses it.

* * *

Knives Out the movie is well-received and makes a large profit at the box office. Ransom signs on to write a sequel; in fact, he has two new books in the works. It turns out Benoit Blanc read Knives Out and reached out to Blood Like Wine to say he would be happy to consult free of charge on Ransom’s future works. He said he has some old cases that will make for some interesting stories. 

Marta enjoys the way Benoit has about him, though Ransom finds his “fog-horn leg-horn drawl” a bit much. 

Ransom and Marta don’t bring up the will again with Harlan. They don’t want to know one way or the other what he has decided to do with his money. They have more than enough.

A year after the movie comes out Ransom and Marta get married. Eventually they move in with Harlan once he needs more dedicated care. 

When Harlan dies at ninety-five years old, it isn’t much of a surprise to anyone that he leaves Marta and Ransom (and their children) everything in his will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! Thank you again, your comments have really made writing this a blast 😁
> 
> I am going to write another Knives Out fic I think!
> 
> The first idea I have is "Ransom gets into a car accident the night of the party and Harlan feels so guilty he insists Marta becomes Ransom's live-in nurse..." Basically they are forced to be together all day every day, plus a ton of hurt/comfort as Marta helps Ransom heal. 
> 
> My other idea is a regency period story where essentially Ransom is Mr. Darcy and Marta is Elizabeth Bennett. Not sure how that would work though since Pride and Prejudice has a million characters, and almost everyone in Knives Out is related haha 🤔


End file.
